


Don't Get Attached

by multifandomcircusfreak, style3645



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Humor, Better Together: A FitzSimmons Partnered Exchange, Buddy Cop au (ish), F/M, Minor Character Death, The first few chapters are more platonic trimmons but after that it is completely fitzsimmons, fitzsvmmons, the-feels-are-overflowing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-03-31 21:17:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 34,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3993190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multifandomcircusfreak/pseuds/multifandomcircusfreak, https://archiveofourown.org/users/style3645/pseuds/style3645
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dr Jemma Simmons' friend Trip died on a mission to discover the secrets of the evil drug-producing gang the Red Skulls, she swore to avenge him. If that meant taking up the same undercover mission at the organization's front, Shield Developments, dealing with her annoying lab partner Fitz, and having him get in her way at every turn, so be it.</p><p>The real mission? Don't get attached.</p><p>A Fitzsimmons Better Together Exchange gift for the-feels-are-overflowing, and fitzsvmmons on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fitzsvmmons](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=fitzsvmmons), [the-feels-are-overflowing](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the-feels-are-overflowing).



> So, the original prompt was a "fitzsimmons buddy cop au", and even though this didn't turn out exactly like that, we still hope you enjoy it. A warning: there's a lot more angst than we anticipated (though there is still a lot of humor), and the first few chapters don't include Fitz, due to our setup... but please have fun reading this anyways!
> 
> We'll be posting two chapters every day until it's done.

Jemma rushed into one of the chemists she worked with, checking her watch frantically as she did so. She struggled to regain her balance after crashing into the woman she recognized as the lady who helped out around the front counters.

"Relax, genius, you're only ten minutes late," her colleague said, helping Jemma stand up straight after their collision.

"Okay. That’s good." Jemma stepped around the counter, stifling a yawn.

The older woman eyed her disapprovingly. "You're juggling two PhD's, an internship and a job selling cough medicine to old geezers and kiddies at this shitty little pharmacy. Plus, you're like, twelve. Do you even sleep?"

"Firstly, I'm seventeen, and I don't see what that has to do with anything. Besides, I'm only here because I need the money." Jemma replied, though she could hear the concern in her coworker’s voice and was grateful for it. “And no, I don’t sleep. Who needs it anyways?”

"Whatever, genius," she said. "That's why I'm here too, really. This exchange won't pay for itself. Now put your stuff in the back and get your name tag on, we've got drugs to sell. Oh, and I've got a packet of chips back there, feel free to help yourself."

"Thanks, Darcy," Jemma called from the back, helping herself to a crisp. Jemma found her American-isms pretty funny. Chips, honestly. 

***

The sky was bleeding out like a gunshot victim, beginning to turn a clammy dark blue. Jemma stood idly behind the counter. She only had half an hour until the night shift worker came to relieve her, but it felt like an eternity was still to pass. It was quite lonely in the shop with no one else in there; Darcy had knocked off early to go to a party. Jemma smiled to herself, a little bitterly; Darcy had been at Cambridge for only two months and had already made more friends than Jemma in the entire year she’d been there.

Jemma's musings were interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. She watched as a man entered the shop, walking in bouncy steps with his hands in his pockets. He had dark skin, kind, merry eyes and was rocking those sideburns. _He must have an athletic profession,_ Jemma thought to herself as she eyed his well-built frame.

He disappeared down an aisle for a minute, then came to the counter sporting a packet of cough drops.

"Good evening. How are you?" Jemma asked sincerely. Interacting with customers was her favorite part of this job. Though there had been problems with the occasional grumpy old man with a malfunctioning hearing aid.

"Good thanks, yourself?" _American,_ Jemma registered.

Attempting to make conversation as she scanned his purchase, she asked him, "So, are you from the States?"

"Yup. Boston, born and bred."

"Two dollars-fifty, please," said Jemma as she handed him his cough drops. "So, what brings you to Cambridge?"

"You know, the history, the sights," he said, pulling out his wallet. "What brings _you_ here?"

"I'm studying here. Biochemistry," Jemma said as she deposited the money into the cash register. "Would you like a receipt?"

"No, thanks - you look pretty young to be at at university."

"I'm seventeen."

"Seventeen?” he asked in astonishment, crossing his arms on the counter and leaning forward on them. “Damn girl, are you a genius or something?"

"I guess you could say that," Jemma said, shuffling her feet bashfully. One of the downsides of being so very intelligent was that people often found it the most interesting part of her, and forgot the rest. She loved conversation, and before people knew her IQ, they talked to her normally… but the second they found out how smart she was, the topic suddenly became purely academic. How did someone so young get into university? How many school fairs had she won? Were her parents proud? It was tiring.

Despite that, the man seemed happy to stay and chat, and Jemma was glad to have the company.

"You hear about the fight that broke out in Petersfield?”

"I did, yes," said Jemma, happy to see he wasn’t asking about her advanced intellect. "My colleague's quite a gossip, she told me all about it. I'd be surprised if half the rumours were true, though. Still, I heard it got pretty serious."

"Mm. I'm glad I wasn't on duty to have to break it up."

"Oh, are you a police officer?" Jemma asked curiously, running her fingers along the buttons of the cash register.

"Uh-huh. Just made detective," the man said happily. "My captain forced me to take some time off because I had barely used any vacation days, so I decided to come to Britain to see some relatives for a bit. Now I'm just exploring, you know, going wherever my heart takes me."

"That sounds wonderful," said Jemma. "I'd love to do that in the United States."

“You should. It’s so big, plenty of stuff to do. I’ve lived there all my life and still haven’t even seen half of it.”

“Well, England isn’t hard to cover. Or anywhere in Europe, really. In fact, you could probably fit the whole of Europe into the U.S.”

The man chuckled. “I bet you could. We should probably introduce ourselves,” he said thoughtfully.

“I’m Jemma Simmons,” she said with a smile.

“Antoine Triplett, but my friends call me Trip.”

“Nice to meet you, Antoine,” Jemma said,extending a friendly hand.

He shook it. “Please, call me Trip.”

Jemma grinned. “Alright… Trip.”

“Say, are you doing anything tonight?”

“Are you asking me out?” Jemma was shocked, firstly because she didn’t get asked out much and secondly because she knew that Trip was a lot older than her.

To his credit, he seemed shocked at the thought. “God, no. I’m eleven years older than you and you’re a minor, that would be weird.”

“Agreed. I was just checking.”

“Yeah, I just wanted to hang. You’re a cool kid. Really mature for your age, you know. I keep forgetting you’re so much younger than me.”

“Well, I am completing two PhD’s,” Jemma said nonchalantly.

“Jesus Christ girl, you are a genius!”

“Thanks. Anyway, I knock off in ten minutes, and I know the best places to get dinner around here.”

Trip smiled. “It’s a - well, not a date.” They laughed. “Anyway, should be cool. What kind of food is there around here?”

“How do you like Indian?”  
***  
The interior of the plane was cramped, filled with uniform seats packed with people everywhere Jemma looked. There were several young children crying and a stewardess was scuttling hurriedly down the aisle with a cleaning cloth in hand. A few seconds later when the smell of vomit tinged her nose, Jemma knew why.

She tried to distract herself with the book in her lap, but the words might as well have been in Chinese for all she was comprehending them. It wasn’t just the vomit; it was the nerves. She felt quite sad, leaving her family and her country, but the job she had been offered was a once in a lifetime opportunity. So off to America she went.

It was funny how it had happened really. It had been about two months after she graduated, and she was just seriously starting to look for work. Even with her genius level intellect and two PhDs by age 17, Jemma hadn’t expected to land an important, high-paying job from the start.  
She was shocked when she received a call from Ross Pharmaceuticals. Apparently the head of R&D there, one Anne Weaver, had heard of Jemma from a fellow scientist Jane Foster, who had heard from her intern who happened to be none other than Darcy Lewis. Jemma had liked Darcy, and they had even exchanged numbers and kept in contact after she left Britain. But she never expected her to do this for her.

Apparently Ms Weaver had been so impressed with Jemma’s record that she was interested in hiring her. After a few long-distance interviews and some practical examinations (that was fun), Jemma had been told the job was hers if she wanted it. Of course, a side effect of that would be moving from Sheffield, England all the way to Boston.

Jemma’s parents had encouraged her to go, knowing they would miss their daughter but so proud of what she had achieved. They were happy to see her putting her brain to good use and doing something good in the world.

There were other upsides to moving to Boston as well. She had kept in contact with Trip, the man she had met at the pharmacy, and now she would get to see him again in person. They had already arranged to meet up a few day after Jemma landed, so he could show her the sights.

Jemma stared out of the window at the clear expanse of blue. She saw her life spread out before her, as wide and full of opportunity as the cloudless sky in front of her.

***

Jemma sat in the waiting room of the Boston police station, hands clasped together. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was here for; Trip had just asked her to come.

In the year she had been living and working in Boston, she and the detective had become quite close. Jemma was definitely not complaining about that, Trip was kind and funny and handsome and one of the best friends she’d ever had. But she didn’t let her small crush get in the way of their friendship - she knew Trip loved her like a little sister. Considering he was thirty and she nearly nineteen, that was perfectly natural.

“Jemma!” Jemma’s head snapped up at the sound of her name, and she saw Trip walking towards her.

“Hey!” She exclaimed as she gave him a hug.

After pulling away, Jemma looked up to her friend. “So, what am I doing here? I haven’t broken any laws, have I?”

“Of course not,” Trip said jovially, patting her on the shoulder. “Actually, it’s about a case we could use your help on. If you want to, I mean.”

“Like, consulting?”

“Exactly. Come on, we’ll talk more in the captain’s office.”

As they made their way, they ran into another detective. He gave Trip a high-five. “Trip, my man!” His eyes floated over to Jemma, quickly surveying her. “And you must be Jemma.” Back to Trip. “You never told me she was hot!”

Jemma blushed, and Trip wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder. “Shove off, Idaho, she’s eighteen.”

“Relax, I’m joking,” said Idaho with a smile. He extended his hand for Jemma to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Jemma said.

“Don’t mind him,” Trip said as they walked away. “He’s a good guy, but a bit of a sleaze.”

“I figured,” said Jemma.

“If you think Idaho’s bad, wait until I introduce you to his FBI buddy Hunter. Even his own wife can hardly stand him.”

Trip withdrew his arm from Jemma’s shoulders as they approached the captain’s door and knocked.

“Come in,” said a decidedly feminine voice inside.

As they entered the room, Jemma’s suspicion that captain Hand was a woman proved correct. She seemed to be in her early forties, wearing a power suit, glasses and cherry red lipstick.

“Detective Triplett,” she said to Trip. Turning toward Jemma, she said, “and you must be Doctor Simmons.”

“Yes, I am,” Jemma said politely. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“The pleasure is mine, Doctor,” said Captain Hand. “Have a seat, both of you.”

“Do you know why you’re here, Doctor Simmons?” the Captain asked as Jemma lowered herself into a seat.

“Tri- uh, Detective Triplett told me you wanted me to consult on a case. I’m not sure of any details.” 

“Well, in that case, we’ll explain. Detective Triplett is the lead investigator in the case against the Red Skulls. Have you heard of them?”

“They’re a gang, yes? They’ve been in the news a lot lately.”

“Indeed. The Red Skulls have major operations in producing and distributing illicit drugs. Recently, a new drug has surfaced, called Hydra. You may have heard of it.”

Jemma had. From the media, her work in pharmaceuticals and general gossip, she had heard of the destruction Hydra was leaving in it’s wake. Dangerous, yet highly addictive, the stuff was becoming an epidemic.

“Would you like to take over from here, Detective Triplett?”

Trip sat up straighter. “Yes, ma’am.” He turned to Jemma. “We have discovered links between Hydra and the Red Skulls. Most people know of the gang, and the drug, but not how they relate to one another. Even fewer people are aware that the Red Skulls, aren’t entirely a street gang, either, they like to hide behind the guise of professional institutions to make their products undetected. I’m the lead detective on the case, and we’re planning for me to go undercover-”

“Undercover?!” Jemma shrieked. “With the Red Skulls? Trip, that’ll be so dangerous, I-”

“Calm down Jemma, I’ll be fine.” Trip covered her hand with his own placatingly. “It will be dangerous, but going undercover is the only way we’ll be able to get enough evidence to put the Red Skulls in the ground.”

“Okay,” said Jemma. “And where do I fit into this?.”

Captain Hand took over. “With your extensive studies of biochemistry and work experience in pharmaceuticals, you’ll be perfect to assist in analysing samples of Hydra. We want you to research the drug, find out what makes it tick, and advise us on it’s effects to help deal with users. Detective Triplett recommended you for the job.”

Jemma flashed a brief smile towards Trip before asking Captain Hand, “Will I be able to get my colleagues’ help on this?”

“We have arranged with your employer for you to be able to use your own workspace for this, should you sign on to consult, but this is an ongoing case and the details are therefore confidential. We don’t want them shared with your coworkers unless we bring them on to consult as well.”

“What do you say, Jemma?” Trip asked earnestly.

Jemma considered. Trip would be going undercover whether she helped or not. She’d be perfectly safe researching the drug in the lab, and she’d be doing a lot of good, helping a lot of people. And that, in the end, is what Jemma Simmons wanted to be doing with her life.

“I’ll do it,” she concluded firmly.

“Excellent!” said Captain Hand, picking up stack of papers and pushing them toward Jemma. “Now the fun part - the paperwork.”


	2. Chapter 2

The phone was ringing in the other room, but Jemma was too busy focusing on the two samples of the notorious drug, Hydra, that she was comparing to really care. She was surprised when her lab partner’s hand appeared in front of her face holding the phone. “For you.”

“Oh - alright. Thanks,” she said distractedly. It was probably the police department checking in. She wasn’t too concerned. Last she had heard from Trip, the operation was going fine and he was well on his way to collecting enough evidence to put the Red Skulls in the ground.

Jemma brought the phone to her ear. "This is Doctor Simmons speaking."

"Hi, Doctor." Jemma recognised the voice as Captain Hand's. "Sorry for calling the lab, I couldn't reach your mobile.”

"Sorry about that," Jemma apologized. "I had it switched off while I was working. So - any news?"

"There is, I'm afraid," said Captain Hand, and the tone of her voice suggested it was definitely bad news. Jemma inhaled sharply, preparing herself to ask what was the matter.

"What is it?" Jemma asked, curling her hair around a finger distractedly.

"It's - it's really not something to discuss on the phone. Can you make it to the station?" Jemma was extremely worried about the way Captain Hand's voice cracked. The back of her mind gave her multiple examples of ways that something could have gone horribly wrong, especially concerning Trip, but she ignored them the best she could. There was no place for paranoia in her mind. She’d just have to discover the issue the captain spoke of once and for all. There was no point getting herself all worked up over something she didn’t know for certain.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Okay, thank you, Jemma. See you then."

As Jemma hung up the phone and exchanged her lab coat for her jacket, she tried to console herself. There was no reason to assume the worst, right? Probably just some confidential case details that Captain Hand didn't want to disclose over the phone. Right?

After fretting the whole bus ride over, Jemma entered the Vice bullpen of the Boston police station with a heavy heart. Still, nothing could have prepared her for the sight that met her eyes. Detective Triplett's desk was adorned in flowers, a rather beautiful sight except for the fact that what it suggested - no, thought Jemma, he can't be - not Trip.

His partner, who was staring at Trip's desk forlornly, then noticed Jemma, who was standing there, shocked. He walked over and pulled her into a hug. "Is Trip- Is he-?" Jemma couldn't even say the words.

He didn't answer, just held her tighter. Tears pricked at the corners of Jemma's eyes. She had never seen Idaho lost for words. Filled with too many, yes, but never without them.

As she gently disentangled herself, he said hollowly, "Captain wants to see you."

"Yeah," Jemma sniffled. She squeezed Idaho's hand before letting go. "Thank you."

Jemma didn't want to enter the captain's office. There, she would be told that her friend was undoubtedly, invariably dead. She knocked on the door, so lightly it was barely more than a tap. When all she heard was a rustling of paper, Jemma thought she hadn't knocked hard enough. She raised her hand again as Captain Hand's voice sounded out, "Come in."

Jemma entered the office, shutting the door quietly behind her. Captain Hand was still quite a young woman, but today she looked older than Jemma had ever seen her. "Have a seat, Jemma."

Jemma pulled the chair out carefully. For some reason, she was trying to make as little noise as possible. "Good morning, Captain Hand," she whispered.

"I think in this situation, it's alright to call me Victoria," said the captain, fumbling with the files she seemed to have hastily gathered over to her. She swore as a photograph slipped out and fell to the floor.

"It's okay, I'll get it," Jemma said as the captain bent down. It had landed closer to her, after all.

"Jemma, I really don't think that's wise-" Captain Hand began, and as Jemma turned the picture over she saw why.

His beautiful dark skin was so pale in death. He might have been asleep, save for the hole in his forehead. It had been cleaned by the M.E. now, but before there must have been blood. So much blood.

“He’s gone, isn’t he?” she demanded fruitlessly, already knowing the answer, especially after seeing the telltale photo. She needed to hear it be said.

‘Yes, Jemma, he’s dead.”

Jemma couldn’t stop the tears from falling as she buried her head in her hands and sobbed.


	3. Chapter 3

**8 years later**

Jemma sat in an office chair in the crowded bullpen, watching diligently as her team’s computer tech ran searches for number plates. They were closing in on this car stealing ring, and Jemma was eager to see it solved. She wanted the first case she led to be successful.

“There are three stolen cars matching the description and partial number plate of the one you saw,” said Agent Johnson. She took a sip of her Red Bull. Jemma was pretty sure that can was her third one that day.

“You shouldn’t drink so much of that. It’s not good for you,” Jemma told the junior agent, not unkindly. She was fond of Skye.

“Alright, then. I’ll switch to Kool-Aid.”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “That’s hardly any better.”

“Whatever,” said Skye. “Anyway, back to this - I have pictures of all three cars here. Do you remember any other defining features we could use to isolate the one we’re looking for?”

“It had a scratch on the left side of the rear spoiler, I believe,” said Jemma, peering at the screen. She pointed to the picture in the middle, “There. I think it may be that one.”

“Simmons?” said a voice to their right.

Jemma got up from the chair, smoothing her collar down as she did so. “Yes, Agent Morse?”

“Hi, Bobbi,” said Skye amicably, giving her her well-loved grin.

“Skye,” Morse acknowledged her with a smile, and then turned her tall frame toward Jemma.   
Even though she knew Bobbi well and she was a good friend and mentor, Jemma was still sometimes slightly intimidated by her height and athletic build, accentuated by the heeled boots she always wore. “Coulson wants to see you in his office.”

“Oh - okay,” Jemma said, glancing toward the computer screen that still showed the three cars.

“Don’t worry, Jemma,” said Skye. “I’ll zoom in and enhance this photo to see if it matches your description. Go.”

“Thanks, Skye,” Jemma said as she turned away with Agent Morse. “What does Coulson want me for?”

“I don’t know. Top secret,” Morse said with a wink. “You’re not in trouble, are you?”

“No!” said Jemma. The very thought offended her. When was the last time she got in trouble? She couldn’t remember it. “At least, I don’t think so.”

“Don’t worry, I’m just yanking your hair,” Bobbi said with a laugh. “Speaking of, I love your new haircut. It looks great on you.”

“Thank you.” Jemma stopped outside Coulson’s office, one hand on the door.

“Well, you have fun- oh my god, what is Hunter doing with my lunch, just because we’re living together again - ugh. Excuse me, I gotta get my food back. See you, Jemma,” Morse called over her shoulder, already halfway down the corridor.

Jemma smiled as knocked and pushed the door open. Before it closed she distinctly heard a yell of pain come from Hunter, probably from Bobbi sacking him on the shoulder.

“You wanted to see me, Sir?” said Jemma as she stepped into the room. Agent Coulson’s office was quite spacious, with cool brown brick walls adorned with Captain America posters.

“Agent Simmons! Have a seat.” Coulson said warmly.

Next to him stood Agent May, Coulson’s second-in-command. May didn’t do much fieldwork, but she radiated an aura of power that made everyone respect her all the same. Besides, Jemma still hadn’t forgotten the time she knocked down a burly gang member as easily as a bowling ball smashes over a pin.

As Jemma lowered herself into the chair across from Coulson’s desk, May handed her a file. She hesitantly opened the confidential document, wondering what this was about. The case seemed to be about one Shield Developments. According to the file they made weapons, both chemical and mechanical.

“Shield Developments,” Jemma tried the name on her tongue. Where had she heard the name before?

May seemed to read her mind. “Shield Developments, creators of weapons, electronics and recently pharmaceuticals. Their newest line of artillery has garnered a lot of media attention. They’re giving Stark a run for his money.”

“What have they done to warrant our investigation?” Jemma asked.

“We have suspicions that they have been supplying weapons to dangerous individuals and groups. The allegations go as far as to say they are supplying terrorists. But that’s not the end of it,” said Coulson. “We also have reason to believe that Shield Developments is the new front for the Red Skulls’ Hydra production.”

Jemma stiffened. The Red Skulls. Hydra. That was something from a long time ago, yet something that still haunted her now. Every time she thought about the infamous gang, it reminded her that they were still on the streets while one of her friends was dead. The group’s attention had died down amongst the media, and everyone had forgotten about them, well… everyone but Jemma.

“Are you ready to help apprehend the very reason you joined Law Enforcement, Agent Simmons?” Agent May asked quietly.

Jemma swallowed. She had been waiting for this moment for years. “Yes. Where do we start?”

***

In the dimly lit room, clothes were scattered here and there, like a hurricane had come through. The storm in question, one Hurricane Jemma, perched on her unmade bed, attempting to sort through the mess. She was usually much neater, really, but the prospect of her upcoming major undercover op was a higher matter of concern. If the state of one’s room reflected their state of mind, then the mind of Agent Jemma Simmons was quite obviously in a frenzy.

 _It’s natural to be scared_ , she told herself as she folded a nondescript hoodie into her suitcase. But honestly, she kind of just wanted to crawl back into her bed. One of the perks of her FBI Agent salary was that she could afford such a nice one. Though it really was a shame she’d received a case that required her to be away from home long term just as soon as she had replaced her creaky old one.

Jemma decided to give up on packing for a while; after all, she still had two days to do it. After almost impaling her foot on a hairbrush as she navigated her way out of the room to make some tea, she gave into the fact that she really needed to open her blinds to see. Reluctantly, she pulled on the cord. The sudden influx of light brought the true messiness of her bedroom into sharp perspective. Jemma crinkled her nose. She really needed that cup of tea.

Ten minutes later Jemma was feeling a lot better, sitting on her couch with her feet tucked underneath her body, a steaming mug of English Breakfast cradled in her hands. Afraid as she was, she was determined to see the mission through. She owed it to Trip.


	4. Chapter 4

_There is no possible way that this can go well for me_ , Jemma thought nervously as she grabbed a bag from her car and slung it over her shoulder. Hunter was about five steps behind her, grunting as he attempted to pick up the rest of the bags from the trunk all at once.

“Thank you for doing this, Lance,” she said gratefully. “I didn’t think you’d want to be pulled into being a moving-boy.”

“Well, you know,” he wheezed as he readjusted a suitcase in his arms. “I did it out of the kindness of my heart.”

 _Lies_ , her brain said in disdain. She knew for a fact that he’d only agreed to this because Bobbi had made him. Everyone knew that for all of the act he put up about hating her, the man would do anything she asked. Whether he was in love or afraid, that was the question.

She took a look at the building she’d learned she would be staying in for the next couple months, or however long this mission took. It didn’t look too different from her actual flat, but it wasn’t home - and given the nature of this op, she doubted it would ever be.

She took another glance at the slip of paper that had her apartment number written on it. 206.

Jemma inhaled a deep breath before muttering to herself, “Well, number 206, here I come.”

Hunter was just closing up the doors of the car, leaning against the side for support. He didn’t get more than two seconds of rest though, before Jemma started walking up to the building, calling “Lance! Let’s go!” over her shoulder.

He groaned, but eventually started moving after her.

***  
When she unlocked the door to her new residence and set her bags down (well, she set her bag down, Hunter dropped all of his and collapsed on the ground with them,) she hesitantly stepped inside to survey the area which was now her not-a-home. It was evident that Bobbi had kept her promise that she herself would decorate, instead of just letting some intern go crazy with a furniture catalog. Everything in the living room was color coordinated, from the sofa to the walls, and Jemma even found a few pictures of herself from the past couple years. That was smart. It would seem odd not to have any photos in an apartment and these ones didn’t reveal anything about her, which would be good if someone came over.

Hopefully that would never happen.

Jemma looked around the rest of flat, and was pleased to know that it was all very comfortable and too her liking. Bobbi had even stocked the fridge. Luckily, she’d for the most part provided healthy food, but Jemma had found a stash of junk in one of the cupboards. _Damn it_ , she thought. She disliked resorting to unhealthy food, but she was sure that since it was there, she would eventually succumb to its calling when the mission got rough.

She returned to the living room to find Hunter slowly getting up from the floor, placing his hands on his knees for support and panting. After seeing her in the corner watching him, he straightened up.

“Is there, uh, anything else that you need?” he asked in a rehearsed monotone voice, giving her no doubt that this was another thing Bobbi demand that he say.

“No, I’m good. You - you can go.”

“Really? There’s nothing else that you need?” he added, though he didn’t sound hesitant or entirely genuine.

“I’m sure,” she lied. It’s not that she wanted _him_ to stay exactly, but Jemma didn’t want to be left alone, either. She was even somewhat willing to ask _Lance_ of all people to stay for a bit longer, but she knew better. He obviously wanted to leave, and she had an interview to get to.

“Alright. If you insist. Bye, Simmons.”

And with that, Hunter was out the door, and Jemma was all alone in her new apartment, with half a dozen bags to unpack, a feeling of fear fluttering around in her chest, and an underlying sensation of determination to match. This was a day to remember.

***

The apartment in Providence was rather nice. Jemma would even have said that she preferred it to her own if it weren’t for the fact that her current situation made her feel less than at home. A definite plus was that it was discreet and nearby Shield Developments’ office. Though, as she feared, the bed that had been provided for her was not nearly as comfortable as the one she had in Boston.

Jemma lay on the bed, staring into the red glare of the alarm clock. Tomorrow was her first day of work. She had applied for the position of a weapons developer in the company, under the BioChem department. Luckily, she had swept the competition and secured the position. Now all she had to do was make sure they didn’t discover she was a Fed.

At least she didn’t have to go deep within the Red Skulls. Of course, part of her mission was to get on their radar, become an ally, but she wouldn’t have to join the gang like Trip did. 

Tired of musing idly and thinking of her fallen friend, she rose from the bed and headed to the kitchen. She was pleased that Bobbi had, in fact, thought of everything, including kitchen materials. Not wanting to crack into her junk food just yet, she took out a salad bowl and some ingredients and got to work.

The knife sliced cleanly into the lettuce, severing it into small pieces. While Jemma had come to terms with Trip’s death, she hadn’t really moved on. It was a hard thing to do, considering it was her fault. She should have stopped him. The guilt had been plaguing her for eight years. Now, at least, she would be able to get justice for his murder, and perhaps even some retribution.

Everyone had told Jemma that it wasn’t her fault. But the fact remained, if Jemma hadn’t screwed up and given Trip the wrong information about Hydra, the Red Skulls wouldn’t have figured out he was a cop. And then he would still be alive today.

Jemma wasn’t really slicing the lettuce anymore, more like massacring it. Her memory went back to the funeral. It had been a chilly day and the flowers were beautiful and the policemen were in uniforms and that’s all Jemma really remembered because she had been crying so much, knowing that she would never see her friend again and that it was she who had gotten him killed-

“Ow!”

Jemma hadn’t been paying attention to the knife, and was now sporting a bleeding cut on her finger because of it. Moving the lettuce away from the smears of blood, she saw her fingerprint in red on the chopping board. Shivering, Jemma went to find a band-aid. “Get it together, Simmons.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Hey, Fitz. Could you hold this still for me?”

Leopold Fitz moved away from his new design he was sketching with an inward sigh. Slipping on a helmet and a pair of protective gloves, he held the sides of the engine as his colleague split it in two with a rotating saw. As it sliced through the metal, sparks flew like fireworks. His colleague, Mack, watched carefully as the saw traveled further down, lifting up once the job was done. Fitz slowly lowered the two partitions down.

“I bet you could have broken that with your bare hands,” Fitz said jokingly.

“I bet I could have,” Mack agreed, flexing his sizeable muscles.

“Where did you get that, anyway? We didn’t design that engine.”

“I don’t know, actually. The boss had it brought in for me, told me to open it up and see how it ticked,” Mack said, looking slightly concerned.

“Hmm,” said Fitz, removing his gloves. “Well, it doesn’t matter, I guess. They wouldn’t have done anything illegal to get it.”

Mack looked up from the engine. “Of course not - hey, you’ve heard about the new biochemist joining the weapons team, right?”

Fitz lifted his helmet up, looking up at Mack with his blue eyes. “Yeah.”

The mechanic smiled.”You don’t look very excited.”

“Yeah, well, you know what happened last time they tried to partner me with someone. Plus the first time. Especially the first time. And every other time too.” Fitz went back to his design.

Shield’s last biochemist hadn’t been stupid by a normal person’s measurement, but Fitz had grown tired of having to explain everything he did three times over. Eventually Shield let him go. Whether it was from his unsatisfactory work or his conspiracy theory that Shield’s CEO was an axe murderer, Fitz wasn’t exactly sure.

Mack frowned sympathetically. “I know it’s hard being the smartest one here with nobody to share your genius mind with. Maybe this new girl will be able to keep up with you.”

Fitz glanced up from his drawing. “It’s a woman?”

“Yeah, Simmons. Jemima or Jenny or something like that.”

“Jemma, maybe?” Fitz asked.

“Yeah, that’s it! You know her?”

“I know _of_ her,” Fitz said. She beat me by twenty days to being the youngest person to graduate university in 2005. I read a paper of hers that got published in a journal. I barely understood it, and that’s saying something.”

“Sounds like you two will get along,” Mack said happily, weighing an engine part.

Fitz scribbled out some measurements. “I sure hope so.”

***

It was a gloomy day; a thunderstorm seemed to be brewing outside. Fitz clutched his coffee grumpily. It was just like Shield to call him in early on a Friday. So close to the weekend, yet so far. Fitz grabbed his ID to scan at the reception desk, not really paying any attention to-

He hit something solid and jumped back with a yell. A shriek came from the object he just hit. Wait, person. Of course it was a person.

“Oh my god. Bloody hell, I am so sorry.” said Fitz to the woman in front of him, who, now that he thought of it, looked unfamiliar. “Did I spill any on you?”

“Any what?” she said. British, Fitz registered. She had a very sweet voice.

“I guess I didn’t then,” Fitz said, holding up his cup of coffee, which was in fact almost empty. He was feeling very flustered, it was just like him to go barreling into pretty women at six o’clock in the morning. “Really, I’m sorry-”

“No, no! It’s my fault,” she countered. “I was standing in the middle of the-”

“Don’t be silly, I wasn’t watching where I was going, you were just reading the noticeboard, I-”  
“Are you two gonna stand there all day?” the receptionist cut in, amused.

“Put a sock in it, Izzy,” Fitz said, but there was no bite in his words.

Fitz turned his attention back to the woman in front of him. She had light brown hair down to her shoulders and friendly, intelligent eyes the color of amber. “I’m, uh, uh-” Fitz cringed inwardly. A lot of speech therapy as a child had helped him improve his stutter and tendency to forget words (like his own name, _honestly_ , Fitz), but when he was nervous coherent speech sometimes evaded him.

The woman waited patiently, not condescending. Feeling the tiniest bit more confident, Fitz managed to get out, “Fitz. I’m Fitz.”

“Just Fitz?”

“No- name’s Leo- Leopold. Leo. Leo Fitz. But it’s just Fitz- I mean, just call me Fitz.” _Smooth, Fitz._

“Alright then. Hi, Fitz,” the woman said with a smile so warm it would melt glaciers. “I’m Jemma. Jemma Simmons.”

Oh God. Oh God, this was- this was Jemma Simmons, his new lab partner, in front of whom he had already done a fabulous job at making himself look stupid.  
Dr Simmons seemed to be thinking something over. She stood in front of him, studying him for a reason he had no clue. It was easy to see that the gears in her head were whirring, though. Fitz could practically see the lightbulb flicker on in her head. It was breathtaking.

“Leopold Fitz. I’ve heard that name somewhere… you’re my new lab partner, yes?” She looked positively thrilled at the fact for some reason.

“Uh, yeah. Welcome.” Fitz got his card out. “Why don’t you follow me, I’ll show you around.”

As they walked past the reception desk, Fitz asked Izzy, “Does Dr Simmons have an ID card yet?”

Izzy snickered. “I was about to give it to her went you went crashing into her like a freight train,” she said, offering a card.

Fitz took the card, rolling his eyes, and gave it to Dr Simmons.

“Bye,” said the receptionist as they headed toward the elevator. When Fitz glanced back he saw she had gone back to scribbling an Illuminati triangle on her notepad. She certainly was an odd lady, but at least she was better than their last receptionist. Koenig had been crazy about ID lanyards. He made sure that every employee updated their regularly, and Fitz was convinced that he had a secret stash of lanyards with different designs.

“Don’t mind her,” he told his new partner.

Fitz pressed the ‘up’ button on the elevator. It dinged straight away; the one advantage of arriving when no one else was there. He let Dr Simmons in first and quickly lobbed his empty coffee into the nearby bin.  
“Nice shot,” said Dr Simmons.

“Thanks,” Fitz said with a shy smile. Okay, Fitz. _Now let’s get down to business_ , he told himself. _Also, stop talking to yourself._

“Alright,” he explained, pointing to Jemma’s card. “This is your ID card. It grants you access to all areas that you are cleared to go, so don’t lose it.”

Fitz inserted his card into the slot in the elevator panel and pushed the button for the seventh floor. “You’ll need to scan your card before operating the elevator. Weapons development is on floors six to eight. I work on seven, so I assume that’s where you’ll be too.”

When Dr Simmons nodded in understanding, Fitz went on, “Have you been told anything specific about what to do today?” The elevator dinged again, and they stepped out. Fitz led the way down the corridor.

“I was told to be here at seven-”

“Seven?” Fitz was shocked. “What are you doing here so early then?”

“I wanted to give myself some more time to get acquainted with my new workspace,” Dr Simmons said, a little defensively.

Fitz was still struggling to understand. He didn’t show up until it was absolutely necessary. Even then, he’d much rather be in bed. “But why would you wake yourself up any earlier than you absolutely have to?”

Dr Simmons chuckled. “You’re not a morning person, are you?”

“No, I bloody well am not,” Fitz said. They reached a glass door.

She stared inside, eyes wide. “Wow,” she said. “Is that your lab? It’s amazing.”

“Cool, isn’t it? And it’s our lab now.”

Dr Simmons turned to him, her face radiant. “This is amazing,” she repeated softly. Turning back toward the lab she said, “It’s surprisingly neat.”

Fitz laughed. “Are you saying you thought I’d be really messy?”

“No! Well, I-”

“Don’t worry,” Fitz said. “You’re right. It’s so neat because I hardly spend any time in there. It gets lonely working all by myself, so I often go down to my friend Mack’s garage on level six.”

“Did you work alone before?”

“Not always,” said Fitz sadly. “I had lab partners, but I always felt- uh, you know, sort of- alienated, I guess, around them. They… weren’t on my level.”

“I know how you feel,” she empathized, and Fitz knew from the look in her eyes that she was telling the truth.

***

“Um, alright, Dr Simmons,” Fitz started once they’d finally settled into his - their - lab. He’d taken the liberty of showing her exactly where everything would be (well, at least where it _should_ be) and telling her how their organization worked. Mainly, that consisted of him informing her who not to sit with at lunch, which people should not be conversed with at all costs if you didn’t have a death wish or weren’t fond of people glaring at you, and where the best coffee/tea maker was in the entire building. “I guess I should fill you in on our current project.”

Jemma laughed sweetly. “Yes, that would be a good idea. And please, call me Jemma. Or Simmons. Either one works.”

He couldn’t help but smile at her, which was odd because nobody else really had that effect on him. She was so warm and friendly that a happy expression instantly formed on his face. Fitz took a deep breath, clapped his hands together, and began to give her an explanation of what they would be working on. 

“Of course… Jemma. So, as you know, Shield Developments is a weapons design corporation. Obviously, we have our high tech instruments of destruction, but that’s not really how we work. It’s a lot more creative than that. Anybody could make weapon of mass destruction, but less people could come up with a way to shoot a target and instantly have access to whatever electronic device they were holding, or a tool that fits in your pocket that can cut through a wall.”

She nodded at his comments, paying very close attention. She leaned against a table and folded her arms, processing what he was saying as he continued.

“Well, the usage of guns all around the world for self defense is very high. Especially when government agents want to disarm their opponents without killing them. Tranquilizers are used a lot, but they’re pretty hard to get used to when you are trained for a gun. Our job right now is to come up with a pistol that can render someone unconscious for about an hour without inflicting any bodily harm upon them.”

He handed her the folder full of the requirements, causing Jemma to wring her hands after she’d looked it over, and look up at him intently. “Do you think that’s possible?” she asked. “I mean, there would have to be no impact or entrance wounds, we’d have to find a chemical formula to knock someone out, but not kill them. Instant paralysis? That’s tricky.”

“I know,” he answered. “I thought Turgeon was crazy when he demanded it, but think about it, Simmons. This could decrease mortality on operations by a landslide! If this was put into circulation, there would be a much better alternative to killing people in self defense! We’re both geniuses, I’m sure we could figure out the scientific aspects.”

Jemma smiled again, but she looked worried still. For a moment, he even got the impression that her wariness was directed at him, but he knew that was absurd, so he forced himself to forget about it.

“You’re right,” she eventually confirmed. “This is a… very beneficial idea. I’m sure we can make it a reality. Obviously the first step is to find out which chemical to use in order to render someone unconscious without hurting them. Any thoughts?”

He held his hands up in protest. “You’re the biochemist here. I just make the gadgets.”

She laughed at that, and after a moment’s pause, she twirled a strand of her brown hair around her finger. He wondered if he was simply imagining the flirtatious nature if her actions. “Oh, please, Fitz. I’m sure you do more than that. This entire organization would be pointless if it didn’t have brains like yours.”

Feeling himself blush, Fitz uttered, “No, really. I just get the requirements to fulfill and I do it. Sometimes I come up with my own stuff, but I’m hardly the biggest fish in the pond.” He wished he could exaggerate his importance, and make himself seem a lot cooler to his new partner, but it wouldn’t feel right. To be fair, he was actually viewed as one of the best engineers Shield had at their disposal, and was sometimes called an asset, but he didn’t like telling other people how great he supposedly was. 

To his disappointment, Jemma immediately stopped what she was doing and acted like nothing had ever happened. 

“Dendrotoxin,” she said abruptly.

“What?”

“Dendrotoxin is what we should use. I believe that if we measure out the doses properly, and have a very good design for the pistol, then we should be able to make it nonlethal.”

“Brilliant!” he praised. He could tell already that they would make a good pair. None of his previous partners had been so smart.

“Do you…” Jemma started awkwardly. “Do you want to get started? I can tell that this will be a lot of work, with the measurements, and the casing, and the release…”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Let’s get started.”

He happily pulled a large notebook and two pens from a drawer and sat down on a lab stool. She sat down on another one beside him and accepted his offer of one of the writing utensils, promptly beginning to jot down some notes about the properties of dendrotoxin and her suggested doses, explaining her ideas the entire time. As they found themselves slipping into a blissfully constructive brainstorm, with their thoughts fitting together like puzzle pieces, he inserted his own ideas amongst hers. By the end of it, they had their first rough draft about the project, and Fitz was even more sure that they would be great partners.


	6. Chapter 6

Jemma liked to believe that snooping around a weapons design company that held multiple secrets and was the host of a parasitic and murderous underground organization would be easy, but she knew that wasn’t true. _You were the one who signed up for this_ , she reminded herself. Do it for Trip.

It was 1:00 in the morning, and she was sure that everyone would be home by now. She herself wanted to be at home as well, or at least her new apartment, but she had to admit that the experience was actually quite thrilling. The lights of the building were off, so she snuck out of the storage closet she’d been hiding in until closing time equipped with a flashlight. The building looked a lot creepier in the dark, and she was constantly on edge as she walked around, half expecting someone to jump out from around a corner and attack her.

Jemma walked down the main hallway of the second floor, just a few turns away from her workspace. _Look for intel, look for intel, look for intel_ , she repeated over and over in her head. Where would she even find anything? She decided to take a look in Mr. Turgeon’s office. He was her supervisor, he should definitely have some sort of papers that could give her a lead. She also wanted to know if the man she was working for was actually a Red Skull. Jemma knew already that she shouldn’t get attached to anyone here, but a little extra precaution would be nice.

She snuck down the hallways, gripping her flashlight tight in her fist and scanning the area in front of her with it. At one point, she was greeted by a door guarding the rest of the way. Jemma prayed that her access lanyard would have the proper clearance to get past. She let out a sigh of relief when it worked.

Eventually she came across the door saying _Dr. Turgeon_ on the plaque. Her hands shook as she extended one of them to the doorknob, and hovered over it. She steeled herself to open it, thoughts of how her younger self from all those years ago would gasp at her shenanigans flitting around her mind. _You can do this, Jemma_ , she reassured herself. With a deep breath, she quickly placed her hand on the metal sphere and twisted it. To no avail, apparently.

She twisted it again, multiple times, but it remained shut. Jemma silently cursed herself for her stupidity. Of course it was locked! Who in their right mind would leave the door to their private office open after hours? Obviously one would have the common sense to protect themselves from the snooping that Jemma was trying to do.

She thought about what else she could do to find information. She supposed that any private office that was worthwhile would be locked, and she didn’t have the clearance. Anything she did have the security clearance for would probably be filled with common knowledge, and that would do her no good. Her first day on the job and she already couldn’t figure out how to do anything useful to her cause.

A thought suddenly came to her. Jemma remembered how Turgeon had visited her and Fitz in their lab to welcome her. He’d said something about how it was a very nice excuse to leave his office. Her memory of the morning included him pulling out a security lanyard from his pocket and shaking it to emphasize his annoyed speech about the long hours he spent there, practically slaving for the higher ups. He’d grumpily dropped the lanyard beside a potted plant on one of the file cabinets before handing Fitz the information about their project. Now that she thought about it, Jemma didn’t recall him picking up his lanyard again before leaving. If she had _any_ luck, it would still be there.

Jemma abandoned the door she was positioned on front of and ran back the way she came, impatiently scanning her card whenever she had to before taking off again. It seemed like there were even more hallways to run down now that she had a purpose than there were when she came.

She finally arrived at her lab, and pressed her lanyard ID card against the processing pad once more, before being allowed to enter and practically skipping inside. She dashed over to the potted plant where she hoped she would find what she was looking for. Jemma dug around in the dark, until her fingers wrapped around the familiar smooth plastic. She couldn’t help but lift it high in the air in triumph. Now she could go get a lead on whatever the Red Skulls were up to, and on her first day, too!

“Yes!” she exclaimed in victory. 

Clutching her boss’s lanyard tightly in the hand that didn’t hold her flashlight, Jemma turned around to head back when she heard a sound. Coming from somewhere in the next room over was a rustling noise, like someone was digging through a drawer.

In panic, Jemma tried her best to be stealthy and ignore her pumping heart as she slowly walked backwards to the door. She held her flashlight just a little bit tighter and kept it raised up, so she could use it to see whoever was there, and possibly use it as a weapon if it came to that. The sound became louder, and she could barely contain her ragged breathing when a light turned on. Her pace quickened as she tried to escape unnoticed.

The noise stopped, and Jemma truly hoped they still somehow weren’t aware that she was there. Then, from behind her came a high pitched squeal, and she whipped around to find a figure in a gas mask, illuminated creepily by her light, waving a mop at her. She shrieked and let a blood curdling scream exit her mouth in terror. The mysterious figure screamed as well, turning them into two people, frozen in shock in the darkened lab, making godawful horror story-esque sounds.

This comical image continued for what seemed like another couple of minutes before Jemma recognized the familiar blue cardigan that the person was wearing.

“Fitz!” she exclaimed in exasperation. 

He abruptly stopped his shrieking, and took off his mask to lay eyes on her. “Jemma?”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. So _this_ was the person who had filled her with so much fear. At least it wasn’t anybody who would have been detrimental to her mission if they’d found her here. 

“Bloody hell, Fitz. What are you doing here?”

He gave her a stunned look and lifted a defensive finger to his chest. “ _Me?_ I’m pulling an all nighter. Remember, Turgeon gave me the specs for an upgrade for one of my designs. It’s due in a week, which is bloody ridiculous, so I’m staying late. The real question is what are _you_ doing here so late? I thought you went home.”

Jemma racked her brain for an excuse to why she was here, with her boss’s lanyard in her hand, acting so suspicious. She looked to her left and was relieved to see the purse she’d left behind. She always kept one in whatever workspace she had, filled with emergency supplies like a hairbrush and granola bars and the like, in case she ever forgot her real one at home.

“I left my purse here,” she lied, gesturing to the accessory. “I know what you’re thinking. ‘Is it really that important that I have my purse _right now_ ’, but it has the key to my new apartment in it, and I’ve locked myself out.”

Fitz laughed at that. “What were you doing out so late?”

She feigned an expression of guilt, tilting her head down towards her feet, and lifting her eyes up to him once more. “I was in a pub….”

Fitz outright chuckled at that, holding his stomach with his arms and bending forward in laughter. “You? I didn’t take you for a woman who drinks, Dr Simmons.”

“Hey!” she said in defense of an act she’d never committed. “It’s the same one that I used to go to with my friends back home, and I was, I was feeling a little homesick is all.”

His laughing fit stopped, and Fitz’s amused expression changed into one of sympathy. He opened his mouth to say something more before noticing the ID card in her hand, his train of thought changing visibly. “Why do you have that? Isn’t it Dr Turgeon’s?”

She looked down at the lanyard she still had, pretending that she didn’t even notice she was still in possession of it. “Oh, this? You scared me! I grabbed the closest thing to me!”

He looked amused again. “What did you think you could do that could possibly harm me with that?”

“I could… strangle you?” she offered innocently.

He tilted his head to the side in consideration, and made a face that she assumed meant approval. “Fair point.”

Jemma reluctantly put the card back on the filing cabinet, both silently cursing Fitz for noticing that she had it, and mourning the loss of her lead. She had been so close.

“Well, I suppose I should go now,” she commented, picking up her purse and hoping that her partner wouldn’t hear the bitterness in her voice.

“You know,” Fitz began, making her stop in her tracks. “I could walk you home. I mean, if you want, that is. It’s perfectly fine if you… I’m not…. You don’t have to…”

Jemma smiled at his awkwardness. Either he was trying to be a nice person, or he was trying and failing to flirt with her, or both. There was also the possibility which crept up on her that he was a Red Skull and was trying to figure out where she lived. Forcing a giggle, she added teasingly, “I thought you were staying late to work on your project.”

He rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. “I would not object to having an excuse to get away from the work I’ve been doing for seven hours straight. All-nighters be damned.”

“In that case, I don’t see a problem.” The last thing she wanted was to look anymore suspicious to the person she’d be seeing for multiple hours a day for how many weeks this mission took. Maybe she could even get a background on him on the way to her flat.

“Great!” he exclaimed excitedly. Placing the mask and the mop beside one of the lab tables, he added, “Let me go grab my bag. We’re locking up tonight.”


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, Jemma was lying in bed thinking about the night before. No useful intel. On the walk back from Shield, she had learned that Fitz’s first name was Leopold, but anyone who called him that was given a glare burning with the heat of a thousand suns. She also learned that he moved from Scotland to go to MIT when he was fifteen, made it to Shield training when he was seventeen, and had worked there ever since. She was even told a couple details about his personal life, but none of the information was relevant to her mission. 

Basically, she now knew her partner’s favourite sandwich, but not if he knew anything about the Red Skulls and Hydra. Great.

Jemma looked over at her bedside table and spotted the time on the clock. 5:45 am. She guessed that since she was supposed to have a video conference call with Skye in about five minutes, she should probably get dressed. Slowly, she pulled herself out of her bed and walked towards her closet, proceeding to throw on a pair of dark jeans and a cardigan. She didn’t have time to take a shower, but she brushed her hair and teeth before flinging herself into the chair in front of her computer just as she received a notification about the incoming call.

Two clicks of a mouse later, she was set up and a familiar face was on the screen. “Jemma?” Skye asked, tapping her camera. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes, Skye, I can hear you,” she confirmed. 

“Great! I know that this is only your second day, but I don’t suppose you’ve found anything?”

Jemma sighed and placed her head in her hands. “No, but I was very close to possibly getting something. It was my bloody lab partner who stopped me. I was finding a key to access my boss’s office, but he _just so happened_ to be pulling an all-nighter and offered to walk me home!”

Skye made a face. “If these were other circumstances, I would say ’awwww’ and joke about nerd love but… Do you think he’s a Red Skull.”

She scoffed. “Dr Fitz? No. He doesn’t have it in him. Either that or he’s a _really ___good liar.”

_Her friend rubbed her temples. “It’s a possibility. Don’t get too attached.”_

_“I know, I won’t.”_

_Skye looked very serious for a moment, and Jemma wondered if she’d had a past with these sorts of situations that she wasn’t telling her. “Good,” she stated, before clearing her throat loudly and continuing. “ _Anyway!_ I have a new lead for you so listen up.”_

_Jemma leaned forward and placed her elbows on her desk, using them as support to rest her chin on her fists. She tapped on ear to show that she was listening._

_“So, we’ve received news about a secret wall panel on the eighth floor of Shield Developments. It supposedly leads to an information archive. Whether it’s the Red Skulls or actually Shield, that’s what we need you to find out. Given the electronic signal coming from its direction, we think that it’s technology based, not paperwork, so you can collect the data in a hard drive and we’ll have Hunter pick it up.”_

_“I’m guessing it won’t be found on any map?” Jemma sighed._

_Skye smirked. “No… but I do have this handy dandy pre-existing map of the building that I’ve marked off the location of the panel on.”_

_“Phew!”_

_“I don’t have its exact spot on the wall though, so you’ll have to use a scanner. I put one in your tech equipment bag.”_

_“Thank you!”_

_“Yeah, yeah, I’m sending the map over now.”_

_A second later, her wireless printer beeped and out came a sheet of paper representing the building in which she worked. In one spot was a little red X, and Jemma was pleased to see that it was only one floor above her lab, just close enough to the break room for her to use it as an excuse to be there, and just far enough away that there was no way that someone would bother her._

_“Do you know where it is?” Skye asked her._

_“Yes,” she said happily, holding the map in her hands. “Piece of cake.”_

_Skye beamed at her, adjusting her headset. “Wonderful! Call me and let me know when you get the info.”_

_“I will.”_

_“And, Jem?”_

_“Yes, Skye?”_

_“Please be careful.”_

_Jemma hesitated for a moment. She knew that she was a logical person, it was part of her personality… but she also knew that she was a little too passionate sometimes when it came to emotions. She got attached too easily and she would do anything to avenge her loved ones. She honestly hoped that she could say that she would be cautious and mean it. She could try her best… but if she _succeeded_ … that was another thing. Jemma Simmons wasn’t careful. She got the job done._

_“Of course,” she lied._

_Her colleague gave her an encouraging nod at this, and a thumbs up. “You’ve got this, Simmons! Good luck!”_

_She forced a smile as she said goodbye. “See you next time, Skye.”_

_Jemma was given the same farewell in response, before the screen went dark. She let out a great sigh, turning her computer off and spinning her chair around slightly. There was so much pressure on her… She just hoped that this part of the mission would prove to actually be a piece of cake and that she wouldn’t fail like yesterday. By that, she hoped that no one - Fitz especially - got in her way. For both their sakes._

_***_

_The first part of the work day went by pretty quickly. Jemma helped Fitz draw the design for their non lethal pistol - which he wanted to name _The Night Night Gun_ , but she’d put her foot down. He was still pretty adamant that that should be the name, though. There had been multiple times throughout the day that she’d realized that she actually liked talking to him, before reality came back to her and she reminded herself to not get attached. All the other times, she found him utterly annoying, so it didn’t take much for her to be reassured that he could very well continue to mean nothing to her._

_At one point, Turgeon had come in to check up on them, even complimenting (it was meager, but most likely to the best of his ability) their fast and efficient work. Jemma hoped that his lanyard would be left there for another day, but alas. Fitz, being the oh-so- _helpful_ person that he was, told his boss that he’d left his lanyard behind the other day. After that, it was gone and Jemma barely restrained herself from pouting or sulking._

_When lunch finally came, Jemma had a plan. She would go upstairs to where the panel was when her break started. Most likely everyone who could see her would be having their lunch, so no one would see her. If anyone did, she could say she had gotten lost._

_She grabbed the bag that contained a healthy lunch (along with some other gadgets to help her retrieve the information that may be stowed away behind that panel) and began her ascent just minutes after everybody else who had the same lunch shift as her made their way to the break room that was just a floor above them._

_Carefully, she snuck down the hallway, after making a turn that lead away from the destination she was technically _supposed_ to be going to. She followed Skye’s little map as she looked around. Luckily for her, the thing was obviously up to date and was very easy to translate into her own footsteps. With every step she took, she felt her heart speed up. She better watch herself or else when this was all over, she’d be addicted to bad girl shenanigans. A few minutes later, she had taken the last turn the map had instructed her to take… and she was there._

_Jemma was positioned right in front of a darkened spare room that was labeled Admin. The window wasn’t the easiest to look through, but she thought she saw a mostly bare little room with a circular table and a few filing cabinets. _It must be in there_ , Jemma thought to herself. _Of course it would look empty and boring, who in their right minds in this building full of important people would feel the need to bother themselves going in there. Perfect hiding spot.__

_She opened the door slowly, and began to walk inside, keeping her eye trained on the wall opposite of her. She was pretty sure that it was there, but she couldn’t know for certain until she performed a scan of the room. Jemma dug around in her bag for the sensor, and grinned as she came across it. Just as she began to pull it out, she saw something move out of the corner of her eye._

_Jemma whipped around, holding out her hands defensively, before lowering them in frustration when she saw who it was. There was _Fitz_ , sitting at the little table, just out of where her line of sight had reached when she looked through the window. He didn’t even look at her, instead, he continued eating the sandwich that he was shoving in his face very happily. Having just taken another bite, he looked up to see her standing there._

_“Jemma?” he asked in not-displeased confusion, with food in his mouth._

_Forcing a smile, Jemma responded with “Fitz? What are you doing in here?”_

_He swallowed. “I could say the same for you.”_

_She wanted to groan out loud in frustration, but stopped herself. How come no matter what she did, he was there and made her explain herself. She held up her bag. “I couldn’t find the break room. I thought this was it. I could have sworn it was two lefts and a right after the elevators but I suppose not…”_

_Fitz laughed, and she found herself hating how much she liked the sound. “Close,” he corrected. “Three lefts and a right.”_

_She looked at him expectantly, prompting him to explain why he was sitting there, unknowingly ruining her plan _again_. He was either an innocent man who had accidentally taken to a habit of repeatedly getting in her way, or a Red Skull who was aware of her secret and was hellbent on stopping her. Jemma didn’t know which was worse._

_“Okay, okay, the reason I’m here is because this is where I eat my lunch every day.”_

_“Every day?” Jemma demanded in disappointment. _Well, that makes things a lot harder_. “Why here and not the break room?”_

_He shrugged and patted his seat. “Here’s a lot quieter. No need to listen to the interns’ drama or deal with the bragging superior officers. I found this little room about three months back and I’ve been coming here to eat every since.”_

_Jemma bit back a sigh and moved over to the table, sitting down on top of it. Looking around the room a second time, she saw the barely noticeable hints that someone spent time in it. Over in the far corner was a wastebasket, containing the wrapper for a sandwich. On top of one of the filing cabinets was a small monkey-shaped keychain._

_She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to come up with an alternate way or time to get in here and grab the intel that she needed from the wall panel. Jemma was lost in her plotting, but she was pulled out of her thoughts by Fitz speaking._

_“You… you could join me,” he offered. When she looked at him in stunned silence, he continued. “In here. For lunch. I mean, if you want.”_

_Jemma, to her secret distress, smiled and blushed at his offer. It had been a while since someone had wanted to eat lunch with her, or invite her for anything, really. It made her feel nice, despite the fact that she was only in that situation because she was on an undercover mission that required stealing knowledge. Yep, that really put things back into perspective._

_“I don’t know, Fitz…” she trailed off. It might be important that she was in the break room during lunch. After all, that was where most of the chatter was, and chatter was very critical to her assignment._

_Her partner bashfully scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, you’re right. You’re the new girl, aren’t you? Need to make friends, or something.... Not that anyone’s actually friendly in the break room.”_

_She laughed at that, before sobering at what he’d said. _Make friends..._ That was something she should definitely do. And who better than someone (a seemingly pliable someone) who actually wanted to be her friend, and was asking her if she wanted to eat lunch with him, alone.... without anyone there to control what he said… right in front of an extremely significant panel. It was perfect, really._

_“Actually, you know what?” she said sweetly._

_He looked up at her, a mixed expression of hope and confusion on his face. “What?”_

_“I will eat lunch with you. After all, we are lab partners, and it’s said that many scientists come up with their best ideas while they take a break from their work.”_

_Fitz’s eyes lit up with happiness and surprise by her change of decision. “Really? Cool! Well, I come here when the bell rings for lunch. You might ask, is it against the rules? Possibly. But no one has told me that I _can’t_ be in here, so… it’s probably fine. Then again, nobody knows that I eat my lunch in here, so they can’t exactly tell me not to do something they’re unaware is happening…”_

_“You’re wrong,” Jemma joked._

_He leaned back in his chair, amusingly terrified by her words. “Pardon me?”_

_She giggled. “Someone knows you come in here.”_

_Fitz suddenly looked very panicky and wary. “What?!” he demanded. “Who?!”_

_“Me!” she laughed._

_He deflated with relief, placing a hand over his chest. “Well, you I don’t mind.”_

_Fitz shifted around in his seat, before looking around in concern, apparently noticing something rather upsetting in the room. He seemed momentarily distraught about whatever that he’d picked up on, and pouted as he returned his eyes to her. “It seems that we’ll need to get another chair,” he said solemnly._

_Jemma stared at him in amused shock, because he’d looked like he’d realized that there was someone’s blood on the floor or that he’d just discovered that he was missing something very important to him, but it was simply because he’d found out that there was only one chair? There was something funny to her about that man._

_“Oh, Fitz,” she sighed. “I’ll just grab one from the lab. There’s plenty stacked up in the corner.”_

_He beamed at her. “Deal. So, Simmons… What do you say about us actually eating our lunch now?”_

_“I say that’s a splendid idea.”_

_She pulled her bag out from beside her, and dug through it, feeling guilty for a few seconds when her fingers brushed against the smooth material of the tools she’d been planning to use to open the panel. She shook the feeling aside and continued to reach for her lunch. Finally, Jemma pulled out her salad, earning a disapproving look from Fitz._

_“What is that?” he asked in mild disgust. “Rabbit food?”_

_“No!” she protested. “It’s just a salad… that just so happens to be made from some foods that rabbits eat.”_

_“Proof!”_

_“Hey, don’t judge the fact that I eat healthy. Just like I’m not judging whatever strange combination of fatty foods that you have stuffed in that sandwich.”_

_“Whatever, Simmons,” he dismissed as he took a huge bite._

_Together they sat there in that darkened room, hidden away from the rest of the building, eating their lunches and chatting away like small children. By the end of their time alone together, when the bell rung for them to return to their lab, Jemma was forcing herself to stop enjoying their conversations so much, and to refocus on her plotting. It wasn’t working very well, she noted, but she was sure that given another idea about how to access the panel, or a tip from Skye, she’d be back to normal. She had to be._


	8. Chapter 8

Two weeks later, Jemma still hadn’t had the chance to go back to the panel. One of the biggest problems with being undercover was that you had to actually do enough work for your fake employer to seem like nothing was going on. Originally, she hadn’t known how time consuming that was. The past fourteen days had been filled with meetings, Turgeon coming in to check on them, and her and Fitz working relentlessly on their project - per their boss’s request.

“Why do you think they need this pistol so fast?” Jemma pondered aloud, hoping to catch Fitz unaware in their eased air as they pieced together the first prototype model. “Is something happening?”

“I don’t know,” he answered sincerely. “They never tell me why they need something. It’s a bit disconcerting, actually. I mean, they tell me the requirements of my design and what its use will be, but it’s all technicalities. I never get to know why they decided they need it in the first place.”

“Do you ever think they’re exploiting you?” Jemma pressed, keeping her voice smooth and fiddling with the piece of the gun she was holding. “Keeping things from you?”

“Maybe,” Fitz sighed. “That’s what happens when you’re an asset. They use you. In one definition of the word or the other.”

He checked his watch, visibly impatient for lunch. “Hey,” he announced. “Five minutes til break. I brought an extra muffin, if you want it.”

Jemma smiled at the thought. They’d been eating lunch together in their little hideaway for the past two weeks, after they’d solved their little chair problem. It was nice, she found herself concluding, despite the fact that she was literally sitting a few feet away from a major lead that she just couldn’t quite get her hands on. Other than that not-so-minor detail, lunch between her and Fitz had quickly become one of the highlights of her day, even if he frustrated her so much by being the human embodiment (and cause) of her failure. 

They usually spent their hour of free time chatting about their project, the best scientific articles they’d read, and the funniest stories Fitz had about the people in the building. Jemma tried to decipher his tales, but to no avail. All she discovered was an intern turned protegé’s affinity for putting ice down people’s shirt, how the CEO of one of the branches liked to use anti-aging cream, and how one of his friends sneaks away from his job in the Mechanics department to play video games.

Jemma looked down at her own watch, and sighed. Two days earlier, Skye had called in to check up on her. Jemma hadn’t been happy to have to tell her about the incident with Fitz and the wall panel. She’d been told that the information was crucial, and that she’d have to find another way in there, but for now there was a different lead for her to follow. Apparently there was talk of a conflict going on in the lower levels of the building, the Mech one, to be exact. She was informed that someone hadn’t exactly been the most discreet with their plans about Hydra, and some other people down there were getting suspicious. It wouldn’t be hard to get somebody talking. So, she had to go down there and check it out. Today.

“Sorry, Fitz. I can’t have lunch with you today.”

“No?” he asked in disappointment. “Why not?”

She placed a finishing touch on what she’d been assembling, before turning to him. “I’m… I’m going out. To lunch. I got this, um, really great coupon that expires tomorrow and I want to use it.”

“Oh....” he stated, looking down at hands as he spoke. “Where are you going?”

“Gonzales’ grill,” she lied, coming up with the name of a random restaurant she’d passed on her way to work.

“Really?” Fitz asked in disbelief.

Jemma warily looked at him. Did he know she was lying? “What do you mean ‘ _really?_ ’”

He chuckled and continued fiddling with the metal part he was holding. “That grill probably has _the most_ fatty menu on the planet. I wouldn’t think you’d go there, miss rabbit food.”

“They have good cake,” Jemma added, hoping that they actually _had_ decent cake.

“Cake for lunch?” Fitz continued in mock surprise. “You shock me every day, Jemma Simmons! First you tell me you went to a bar, now this! What other secrets are you hiding, hmm? Do you own a leather jacket?”

She _did_ in fact own a leather jacket, one that Skye had bought for her during their time working in the FBI together, but she didn’t find that important right now. She stilled when he asked if she held anymore secrets, though she knew that he probably had no clue what she was hiding. Unless he did… He might be a Red Skull trying to subtly intimidate her. Jemma shook the thought away. She was either on to something, or very, very paranoid. She preferred to go with the second option. 

She opened her mouth to push his teasing right back at him, but was stopped by the lunch bell ringing throughout the halls. Jemma shrugged her labcoat off, and grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

“I guess I’m heading out,” she announced. She felt a little silly saying that, because she was really only headed downstairs.

She took two steps towards the door, before Fitz said “I’ll come too,” making her stop in her tracks. _No…_

“What?” she asked for clarification.

“I’ll go to Gonzales’ too. I love that place. Plus, you don’t know the secret menu. It has all the good stuff.”

“Oh, Fitz, that’s really not necessary. I mean, I’d love the company, but surely you would prefer your quiet lunch room!”

“It’s fine, Jemma,” he assured her, making her want to stomp her foot. Why’d he have to be so bloody _nice?_ “I know a shortcut too, it allows for more time to eat.”

She panicked, looking for a way out. He was not going to ruin her plans again. She quickly remembered that she didn’t _actually_ have a coupon.

Jemma put her sweetest smile upon her face. “Well, that’s very kind of you. Let me just find my coupon.” She rifled around in her bag, searching in what would seem like a very determined way to the observer, for a slip of paper she knew didn’t exist. She increased the confusion and persistence that she showed on her face as she continued digging, before throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation. “Ugh! Sorry, Fitz, I don’t think I can go. I seem to have lost my coupon, which was the entire point of the trip.”

“Really?” he asked in concern. Fitz took off his own lab coat, before reaching into his pocket. “Was it the 50% off one?” He pulled out two brightly coloured bits of paper. “‘Cause I’ve got two of those. You can take one of mine.”

Jemma gaped at him. _How? How did he have such a skill with making sure she couldn’t get anything done?_ She gritted her teeth and forced a smile. “Wow! What a coincidence! That’s great.”

He smiled happily at her. “Then, let’s get going.”

***

Ten minutes later, they were walking into the grill together. Fitz was beaming, but Jemma was trying to hide the fact that she didn’t look pleasant. The second they were inside, she was overcome by the smell of so much meat that she felt as if she’d just stepped foot inside a slaughterhouse. If this was the alternative to eating rabbit food, then Jemma was very content to stay where she was with her diet. That said, the scent of the food was altogether quite savoury.

“ _This_ is your favourite restaurant?” Jemma teased. “And you make fun of _me_ for my diet?”

“Hey!” he protested. “This is the best grill in town. Plus, I never said it was my favourite place in the whole world. To be honest, my mum cooks a lot better.”

She gave him a look. “Fair enough. Want to find a booth?”

“Sure.”

It wasn’t very crowded, given that Shield’s lunch breaks were about an hour earlier than the rest of the city’s. Jemma suspected that around the time they left, more people would file in. But for now, the two of them had a wide choice of seats to sit in. They decided to sit in the middle of the restaurant, where the sunlight came streaming in through the leaves of a tall potted plant that was stationed beside them. 

Fitz sat on one side of the table, leaving Jemma to sit across from him, right in front of the beautifully lit bundle of leaves. One of the branches lay just overtop of her head, nearly surrounding her face. She pushed it aside, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Fitz was giving her a wide eyed look. His mouth was hanging slightly open, and she didn’t want to ask why. She did want to snap him out of whatever daze he was in, however.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she stated matter-of-factly, making a prim face at him. Was she acting rude? Probably. She didn’t care much, though, considering he’d ruined all of her plans since she met him.

It took him a moment to process that she’d said something, but a moment later he was blinking his eyes rapidly and blushing. Jemma on the other hand was rolling her own eyes. 

“Huh, what? A - a ghost? I didn’t realize… I was just… It’s nothing.”

She sighed at his antics, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Shall we order?” she offered bluntly.

“Oh, um, yes. That’s a good idea.” He held up his two coupons. “On me.”

“Well, I’m obviously getting the cake,” Jemma confirmed. She didn’t really have a choice. She just hoped the cake was actually something she’d enjoy if she’d come here of her own decision, instead of being something she had to pretend she liked to keep up her story.

Fitz laughed. “I didn’t doubt it. I’ll get a burger.”

Since they were basically the only ones in the restaurant, there was no point in having the one waiter (who seemed to be perfectly amused, playing with his phone in the corner) come to get their order, so Fitz just went directly up to the counter himself to ask for their food. He came back a few moments later with two glasses of lemonade in his hands. He set them down on their table and slid into his seat again.

“I hope you like lemonade,” he commented. “It was either that or some weird fruit drink that sounded like diabetes in a glass.”

“Well, scientifically, that’s not possible…”

“You know what I mean!’

Jemma reached out to take her glass, bringing it up to her lips for a sip while looking at Fitz, who was giving her that stare again. She lowered the glass to ask “What now?”

“I was just thinking…” he mused, taking a drink of his lemonade between pauses in his sentence, “that I don’t know anything about _you_.”

“What?” she stuttered. “What do you, er, mean by that?”

“Well…” he continued, lacing his fingers together and propping his elbows up on the table. He leaned forward, coming a bit closer to her, and making it feel kind of like an interrogation. She’d seen enough of Bobbi’s work, however, to know that this wasn’t so bad. “You know my favourite sandwich, where I’m from, that I adore my mum, multiple stories of my past…. but I don’t know a lick about you.”

She wished he hadn’t used the word lick. 

Calling on Coulson’s advice about selective truths and a good backstory, Jemma began to talk. “Um… there’s not much to tell. I used to work at a Pharmaceutical company, but it got hectic so I left. I took a few years off to do personal things… then I joined Shield. I was born in Sheffield, moved to Cambridge when I was 17 to complete Uni. My favourite hobbies are science experiments, reading, watching bad Rom Coms, and cooking. My favourite food is pastries of any sort, especially my Gran’s gluten-free biscuits. Is that enough information to appease you?”

Fitz smiled and leaned back in his side of the booth. “I’d give it a B+. Pretty vague…. But at least I don’t feel like I’m talking to a stranger who appeared out of nowhere.”

“If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to ask.”

“You sound like a teacher at the end of a lecture. I half expect you to pull out a syllabus, and make me do research on you.”

“I’d never submit anyone to a research paper. The ones I had at Cambridge were the worst. I felt like they wanted me to fly across the world to some sort of museum or build a time machine whenever they asked a question about something. Google wasn’t exactly the best in 2005!”

“I know!” Fitz exclaimed back at her. “The ones at MIT weren’t any better. Every time I tried to write anything, I felt like I had to personally know Alexander Graham Bell to be able to get anything down.”

She was shocked to learn that he’d went to MIT, though she didn’t know why. He was one of the best scientists in all of Shield, and was obviously a genius. In her line of work, Jemma had come across plenty of bright people, but it was still a new concept to meet someone who had had the same experiences as her. 

“You went to MIT?” she asked in intrigue, ignoring the server as he placed their meals on the table. Right now, a slice of chocolate cake wasn’t the biggest thing on her mind.

“Yeah,” he affirmed, taking a bite of his burger. “When I was 17. It was fun, I guess… but I was alone in a new country and I didn’t know anyone. It wasn’t the _most_ pleasant experience. Shield recruited me right after I graduated. I mean that literally. They came up to me twenty minutes after I got my diploma. I started training a week later.”

Jemma made an impressed expression. “Wow. My story sounds boring compared to that.”

“I doubt it is,” Fitz protested in earnest. He leaned his cheek against his fist as he looked at her. 

“You’re right…” she admitted. “I’m actually pretty interesting… but not in the ways I’d like. My life hasn’t been the best either, the last eight years were quite tough. But I’m here now… and that’s what matters, isn’t it?”

She didn’t know why she’d tacked that last bit on. The last thing she needed was to grow attached. It would only hurt in the end. It always did. When one grew attached, there were only three endings; they lost someone, somebody lost them, or by some miracle it all turned out alright. To Jemma, the first two were the most common.

“I’m glad you’re here now,” Fitz confessed shyly, after a few moment’s hesitation. “You’re the only I feel understands me in that entire building. You can actually keep up… and I think that’s nice.”

Jemma opened her mouth to speak, but knew that she had no words to say, even if she had been allowed to say the ones she wished she could. She wanted to tell him to stay away, to keep his distance, for she would only break him in the end. She wanted to say that she was sorry in advance, if she ever hurt him. She wanted to say she felt the same way, at least with the keeping up part… But she settled for cutting off the emotion that flooded through her face, and stuffing some cake into her mouth. 

In the back of her hectic mind, she acknowledged that the cake was actually pretty good.

She continued to chew her food, trying to mask the fact that she wasn’t responding to what he’d said. After she’d swallowed, she opened her mouth to speak again, but she still avoided any sign of reciprocation on her part.

“What did you do before I came along?”

“Kept to myself,” he admitted. “And yelled at a few lab techs and was generally grumpy towards my partners. Usually, I just worked alone.”

“How awful,” she sympathised. “I’ve always gotten along with people, but it certainly can get difficult when you’re a genius.”

He hummed in agreement, taking another bite of his burger. “I’ve been at Shield for ten years, and let me tell you, it’s satisfying, but it sure can get lonely.”

“Ten years? Really?”

“Yep.”

“I must seem so new to you.”

He sent a coy smirk in her direction. “No, not at all. You fit right in. It’s almost like you’ve been there forever, at least to me.”

She couldn’t help but blush at that, and she felt her cheeks go red at the sight of his look of adoration. Wait, adoration? Why had she thought that? It probably wasn’t that. She was just imagining the feelings she assumed went behind the way his eyes were lighting up as she spoke, or the way his mouth curved into a small smile. She knew that men had crushes on her. She was attractive, and smart… but no one adored her. She didn’t deserve adoration, with what she was doing.

“Well, that’s a relief. This isn’t the first time that I’ve had a career change, and it’s not easy. Honestly, I’m always afraid of people not liking me.”

“I like you. And considering I’m the one who you spend hours of your day with, that’s pretty good.”

“Yeah… A thought just occurred to me. Now that I’ve given you the details about my past, you officially know more about me than I know about you. Spill.”

She ate more of her cake, and watched as he raised his eyebrows teasingly. “Is this how we’re going to play it?” he needled. “And I would call what you said more of a ‘vague overview’ rather than details, but fine. I’ve got nothing to hide. What do you want to know?”

“Favourite movie?” she questioned.

“Back to the Future. Despite its scientific inaccuracies, of course.”

“Favourite animal?”

He responded immediately, without missing a beat. “Monkeys. Definitely.”

“Favourite colour?” 

“Blue.”

She tapped her chin mischievously with her finger, looking up, feigning being lost in thought. “Favourite lab partner?” she joked.

“You,” he responded sincerely.

Jema knew that she should have kept her mouth shut, but suddenly the teasing air dissipated, leaving her with a hollow feeling of vulnerability, hope, and surprise.

“Really?” she asked in a small voice. “You mean that?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know that we’ve only been working together for a few weeks, but I still think you’re the best partner I’ve ever had. I feel like I can actually talk to you, and trust that you’ll understand me and come back with something even better. That’s new for me. I’ve never had that.”

“For the record,” she found herself adding, “you’re the best lab partner I’ve had too. I mean, I had someone kind of like that who was amazing, but he… he’s gone. And it was different. This is new for me too.”

Fitz smiled at her, and she smiled right back at him. Genuinely, this time. The sat there, leaving their food untouched as they looked into each other’s eyes and curved their lips up sweetly. Jemma’s heart fluttered against her will. 

He eventually broke the silence by quietly asking “Favourite movie?”

Without losing eye contact, she answered, “Love, Rosie.”

“Favourite scientific law?”

“The first law of thermodynamics.”

“Favourite animal?”

“Bunnies. I had one when I was younger. Cried for days when she died.”

“Favourite colour?”

“Blue,” she stated without a pause, surprising herself. Why had she said that? If you’d asked her yesterday, she would have said green. It had always been green. She liked the way it represented nature and life, and how it was the colour of her first lab coat, and how the first chemical she’d studied using the chem kit that she’d gotten for her seventh birthday was chlorophyll. Yet, for some reason she’d said blue. Odd.

“Congratulations, Simmons,” he grinned, lifting his burger to his lips for another bite. “You have officially given me enough information about you to appease me. I still don’t know you inside out.. but give it time.”

She leaned forward on the table, letting her demeanour slip back into the teasing one she’d adopted around him. “Here’s a little tip; no one knows me inside out. Good luck with that.”

He returned her attitude with a determined stare of his own. “I said give it time.”

Funny thing was; she believed him.

She leaned back in her chair and slid her cake back to her, amusing herself by eating more. “Well, here’s a deal: you tell me a story about you, and I’ll tell you something about me. Now, I warn you, I’m going to be matching how pleased I am with what you tell me with the quality of what I tell you. So, if you want to get to know me, then I will accept only the _best_ Shield gossip, and the _funniest_ childhood stories.”

He smirked. “Can do,” he agreed, before launching into a tale about his first week at Shield. “So, there’s this guy named Ward who was my supervising officer. Don’t know where he is now, he got promoted or something, and I haven’t seen him in years. Anyways, when I first showed up at Shield, it was his job to show me around, and let me tell you, that guy needed to get laid. He had some sort of friends with benefits thing going on with Agent Palamas - she was a specialist too, and I _swear_ , I didn’t get _anything_ done that first week because he kept on making me play messenger!”

“For real?” Jemma laughed.

“Yeah! You wouldn’t believe the things he made me do! I had to tell her ‘Hey, sexy’ on his behalf, I was ordered to tell her puns… He even made me bring her a cactus! A cactus!”

Jemma was holding her stomach, doubling over and feeling her face heat up at the hilarity of the thought of a teenage Fitz awkwardly shuffling over to a grown woman, handing her a cactus, and calling her sexy. It was too much to handle.

“Okay, okay, you deserve to know something interesting about me…” she informed him, her cheeks still hurting from her laughter. “Um, when I was in 5th grade, I corrected a teacher so many times that I got kicked out of class. I didn’t spend much time with her though, thank goodness. I skipped that grade halfway through the year. I was on the fast track. Still, I will never forget how much Ms Fields hated me… or the look she gave me when I told her that she was doing her baking soda and vinegar volcano wrong.”

“What did she do?”

“She put in the wrong measurements and I _told her_ that it would end badly, but she already hated me, so she did it anyway. The thing exploded all over the poor kids in the front row.”

“Wow!”

“I know. It was a sight. She blamed me afterwards, so she made me sit in the hallway as she cleaned it up.”

“I can match that. One time….”

They sat there, having finished their lunches, devoting all their attention to one-upping each other’s stories. Jemma told Fitz things about her that no one else knew, and in return he shared with her just as much about himself. Eventually, her watch told her that it was time to go back, and they reluctantly pulled themselves away from their table. Fitz insisted on paying, but Jemma argued that since he’d brought the coupons, it was only fair that she payed for the rest. They had a minute long silent argument before they finally agreed that they would split the bill.

They walked back to Shield together, continuing their exchange of information and stories. Even after they returned to work, they chatted amiably for the rest of the day. Jemma was pretty sure that she’d genuinely laughed more times in that one day than she had in the past few months combined.

That said, when it came to not getting attached, Jemma was screwed.


	9. Chapter 9

Jemma sat on the lab table, giggling as Fitz made funny faces behind one of the superior officers who was quietly sifting through their research. His cheeks were puffed out, and he pulled his ears away from his head so that they appeared bigger, and he swayed back and forth. Whether the man had no clue he was being made fun of, or if he was just ignoring Fitz’s antics, she didn’t know. Fitz backed up and leaned abnormally casually against a table just in time to not be discovered by the man as he put down the folder and left. She was sure he would at least notice her partner’s strange and guilty demeanor, but the agent simply walked out of the room, not even glancing over.

The second he was gone, the two of them gawked at each other over the fact the Fitz hadn’t been caught. 

“Who was that guy?” she questioned, wondering if he’d had a reason for his misbehaviour.

“No clue,” he responded in amusement. “But I hate it when superior officers look at my work like they own it, so I couldn’t help myself.”

She leaned forward. “Evidently not.”

He made a weird face at her movement, one that she’d seen him make multiple times. “Hey, I just don’t like it when they stick their noses in our stuff… It’s not like I’m a hooligan.”

“I never said you were…”

“Thank you.”

“Mr Bad Boy Shenanigans.”

He made a sound of protest, and his mouth dropped open at her comment. He continued to stare at her, and make sounds of what was either denial or flattery or both. She smirked in response. 

It had been a month since they went to Gonzales’, and in that span of time, Fitz had done very little to make her see him as a Bad Boy. He always handed in their assignments on time, even if he did it begrudgingly when the higher ups were particularly demanding. He didn’t break rules… well, he didn’t break the rules that he was told specifically were rules. If nobody told him not to do something, than he viewed it as up in the air. He even came in everyday on time, which couldn’t be said for everyone. To be fair though, he did look like he had woken up five minutes prior to walking into the lab, with his cute… um, no, _messy_ bedhead.  
“Close your mouth, Fitz. You’ll catch flies.”

He immediately pursed his lips comically, earning another smile from her. She shook her head and looked down at the folder placed beside her on the table, before remembering that she didn’t have anything to do with it. They’d sent in their prototype for the gun two weeks earlier, and were still waiting for the report on it back. Turgeon had given them a smaller project to work on, but they had quickly finished it in no time, and sent in the specs yesterday. That meant, that they had nothing to do. Obviously, that was the perfect opportunity for the two scientists to fool around all day, sitting on tables and chatting like high school students.

Luckily for Jemma, the speed that she completed Shield’s assignments at allowed her to work on her own secret agenda. She still hadn’t been able to get the wall panel, but she was planning to do that soon, and would chat up somebody on the lower levels today if possible. Recently, Skye and Bobbi had been giving her smaller, less noticeable missions that she could complete easily with less fear of Fitz’s interruptions. She was hesitant to tell them about her getting attached to him, and the way he affected the _real_ work she was doing, for the fear of them moving her away from him. She knew it wouldn’t last, but she could try and prolong it as much as she could. This friendship meant more to her than she wished it did.

Now, if the day would just finish for her, she could head down to the Mech level and talk to some of the workers - whose work day ended an hour after hers.

She looked up at the clock that was situated on the wall above the doors. In ten minutes, she was free to do her spy stuff. The thought made her bounce up and down on her toes, drawing Fitz’s attention.

“Excited for something?” he commented as he toyed with a vial of blue liquid that sat on a shelf.

“The end of the day. Honestly, if they don’t give us anything new to work on soon, I’ll die of boredom.”

He feigned offense. “Excuse me! Do you find me so boring that if I’m the only thing you have to focus on all day, you can’t wait to leave?”

She turned to face him, a kind smile growing on her face. She walked up to him, and placed her hands on each of his shoulders, ignoring the gulping sound he made when she did (and the flutter in her chest that it subsequently gave her). 

“Of course not,” she assured him. “I actually quite _like_ hanging out with you. But I do need something to work on, because it will intellectually drive me mad if I don’t. Maybe I should assemble a bookshelf or something when I get home.”

“Need help with that?” he asked with a twitch of his eyebrows.

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” she teased.

She separated from him, so that they were no longer touching, turning back to the clock. Only a bit longer now.

“Are you planning on seeing that new movie?” he suddenly asked. “The one with the superheroes? It just came out a week ago, and apparently it’s pretty good.”

“Well, I wasn’t necessarily,” she replied, keeping her eyes trained ahead. “But it is something I wouldn’t mind seeing. It sounds interesting.”

“Do you want to come see it with me tonight?”

Jemma turned around in shock at his offer. Could he have picked a worse time to ask? She felt herself being torn slightly on the inside. Yes, she wanted to see a movie with Fitz, since he was asking, but she knew she had to complete her duties as an FBI agent first. Skye would be so angry with her if she chose a movie with a coworker she wasn’t even supposed to be actual friends with over the mission.

“Tonight?” she asked sadly. “Oh, I’m really sorry, Fitz, but I can’t. I have some plans tonight at home. Is there any chance I could get a raincheck?”

He scratched his neck embarrassedly. “Well, I was planning on tonight, but if you have other plans… we probably could go later, if you want. I got a ticket for myself, though. So, maybe a different movie.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Um, some other time, I guess?”

“Yep. Some other time.”

He smiled at her, but she could tell that it was forced. Jemma opened her mouth to add something, _anything_ , but just before she could make a sound, the bell that signified the end of the day rang. Before she knew it, Fitz had collected his belongings at a speed she’d never seen him do anything at, and was hurrying out the door, face red.

He thought she rejected him. That she was only asking for a raincheck to get out of it.

Dread in her heart, she shed her labcoat and grabbed her own bag. Jemma walked out of their lab, her mouth in a straight line as she locked up. She continued to descend in the elevator, past the point where she usually got off, until she reached the Mech level. 

_You were just doing your job_ , her brain told her. _In the grand scheme of everything, your friendship with Fitz means nothing anyway._

Her heart still felt guilty, though. Ten minutes earlier, she was bouncing up and down at the thrill of her next step in her mission, but now that she had been given another option, she wished she was somewhere else. With _someone_ else.

***

The hallways were darker down in the lower levels of the building, especially in comparison to the stark white lights of the upper lab level where she worked. It wasn’t grimy, per say, but it certainly wasn’t up to the pristine cleanliness standards of upstairs. To her left was the symbol for the Mechanics Department, which she’d only seen on maps. To her right was the sound of machines whirring and hammers clanging.

Honestly, if Turgeon were to come down here, he’d have a conniption.

She continued her trek down the long halls until she came across an entrance for one of the larger garages. Jemma pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the map of the grounds that Skye had sent her, to make sure that she was in the right place. It would be pretty bad if she started talking to someone who had no clue what was going on, and accidentally spoiled the mission.

As had become the norm for her, she took a deep breath before she opened one of the large doors that lead to the garage. Immediately after she stepped in, the noise got ten times louder, making her wish that she’d brought some noise cancelling headphones. Scanning the room, she found the group of men she was looking for. Skye had sent her a picture of the ones who had been the start of all the suspicion. A phone call sent to the wrong place, hadn’t it been?

She stood up tall, acting confident and important as she strode up to them. She was only a few feet away from them when they finally noticed that she was even there. Jemma cursed her height. Bobbi would not have had this problem. The men all turned to her at once, making her feel a little surrounded. Luckily for her, the tallest man there - who looked to be their leader, was the one who spoke first.

“What can I do for you, Ma’am?” he boomed.

“Um, hi, I’m Jemma Simmons. I work upstairs. I was wondering if I could talk to you fellows for a few minutes?”

He glanced around at his coworkers, collecting a few nods, before turning back to her. “Shoot, English,” he permitted.

“Well, I’m sure that you gentlemen are aware of the odd stuff going on around here. Mysterious telephone calls. Messengers who stick around until someone’s alone to give their message. Projects being assigned without any briefing about their usage before or after mass distribution. It doesn’t make sense, and I can’t help but be concerned. I was hoping I could get your opinions?”

One man looked around, giving Jemma a wary stare. “You some reporter?” he demanded gruffly.

“No. I’m simply a level seven scientist who is a little confused and would like more information. Do you know anything?”

The largest man paused for a moment, considering his response to this strange and unreliable woman who had appeared in his garage, asking for info about a thing that only few people supposedly knew about. He took a breath, and a decisive expression appeared on his face, hardening his features.

“Not here,” he stated. “Boys, Miss Simmons, come into my office.”

He turned on his heel and began to walk in the opposite direction, towards a steel door at the end of the garage. His coworkers - or was it employees, since he was obviously the man in charge? - followed him immediately. Jemma didn’t like the thought of following the strangers into an enclosed, private space where she was outnumbered, but it was the price of her duty. She started to trail after them.

The large man held the door open for her, allowing her in. It wasn’t the most professional of places, considering it looked like a hybrid of an actual office and a man cave. A desk was stationed in the center of the space, and there were file cabinets and a computer and a bookshelf, but off to the side there was a couch with a coffee table and a tv in front of it, set up with a video game console.

“I just realized that I haven’t introduced myself,” the man announced in his deep voice. “The name’s Mack. I’m the head of the Mechanics department here, and this is my best and finest crew.”

She surveyed the rest of the group, who were crowded in the video game section of the room. They looked less hostile now that they were in friendly territory, and that in turn made Jemma feel better.

“Pleasure to meet you,” she smiled. These men were very likely a part of the legitimate Shield division of this organization, even if they were a little inhospitable to newcomers, which couldn’t be said for most. They were probably quite friendly once they trusted you.

“Likewise,” a man mumbled.

“So…. First things first, what do you know?” Mack asked.

“I know that something’s not right in this organization. I mean, I’ve only been here for about a month, but I’m one to pick up on things. I’ve noticed the way that some people only talk to others when they are alone, and it’s often the same people. Some agents get promotions and disappear. Now, that could be a coincidence. They could be moved to a different branch. But wouldn’t they tell people that? Instead of falling off the face of the earth? Where could they possibly go unless there’s a second option… a second _layer_ of Shield.”

Jemma looked back at her acquaintances. They were all glancing around at each other, and she knew that she had it. 

“You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Mack confirmed. “We thought we were the only ones noticing it.”

“So….” Jemma mused. “What do you know? What happened to make you find out?”

“Well,” he began, sitting down at his desk. “It started about two months ago, when Curtis here was on duty.” He gestured to a beefy man leaning against the back of the couch, who lifted his hand in acknowledgment. “He was taking care of the phones, and it was obvious that it was sent to the wrong number. The guy on the other end was talking about something called Hydra? Which was weird because it was on the Shield private line, so it couldn’t have been coming from somewhere else.”

“Do you know what Hydra is?”

“No,” Mack admitted. “But that was just what opened our eyes. Soon, we started picking up on the same things that you did. Some people on talk to others when they are away from certain people. Some employees here get ordered to stay after hours for reasons I have no clue about. Then, there’s the whole thing about people disappearing after mysterious promotions, and either resurfacing years later or never being seen again. Plus the problem where higher ups order us to make weapons that we have no information about.”

“It’s certainly a struggle, isn’t it?” she empathized.

“That’s not even the biggest thing we’ve found, though,” Curtis added. He gave Mack a look that obviously showed he was asking for permission about something. His boss nodded, so he continued. “I was doing some paperwork a few weeks ago, when I noticed this.” He pulled a piece of paper from on top of a nearby table and gave it to Jemma to look at. “This is one of those design parameters that they always give us at the start of each month when we get our project load.”

“I don’t see anything peculiar,” she confessed.

“Exactly. But look at the watermark.”

She inspected the watermark that Shield placed on all of their documents. It didn’t look out of place. How many of these had she come across during her month and a half working here? A million, it seemed like, each with the same abstracted eagle surrounded by a circle.

“What about it?”

“It’s hard to spot, but look at it in comparison to this Shield paper here.”

He handed her another sheet, and she surveyed it, only seeing the difference for its absence in the new paper she’d been given. On the first document, in very faint grey, was an additional watermark. In behind Shield’s signature eagle was another symbol; a skull with an octopus’s tentacles attached to it. She bet that in its original form, without the necessity of being masked by Shield, the logo was red.

The Red Skulls.

“I see it!” she announced to the men. “So, you found this? How useful this proves, to differentiate the actual Shield’s work from… whoever these imposters are.”

“We know,” Mack added. “I wish I could just refuse to do any work that was assigned using a document with that watermark, but it would be too conspicuous. Besides, I want to have the chance to find out more. I mean we’ve had a lot of hunches and ideas, but this is the only solid proof we have for our theories. That and the thing about the letters RS that show up sometimes, usually hidden.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah.”

“Well,” Jemma started, “it’s been wonderful talking to you gentlemen. Very helpful. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go home and assemble a shelf.”

She headed towards the door, but Mack coughed loudly, making her stop in her tracks. “Boys, you can go. Miss Simmons, may I have a word with you in private before you leave?”

She turned around, forcing a large smile onto her face to cover up the underlying fear that came forth. “Of course.” Jemma watched with a pounding heart as the crew left the office, leaving her alone with the large man.

“Take a seat, please, I insist.”

Not wanting to upset him, she quickly scurried over to the chair that rested beside his desk and plopped herself down onto it, wiggling around nervously before finally settling.

“Two things, Miss Simmons,” Mack stated. “One… You do know how important it is that this information remains a secret, don’t you? Blabbing to the nearest gossip could ruin everything.”

“Trust me....” she assured him. “I know.”

He laced his fingers together and propped himself against the desk. That action always looked so teasing and friendly when Fitz did it, but now that Mack was imitating his behaviour, it suddenly seemed more like a principal when he was scolding a student. 

“Trust you, you say? Now that brings up another point of mine. How do I know I can trust you?”

Without even needing to think about it, Jemma knew exactly what to say. It was something that she’d been told a long time ago. Leaning forward herself with her best air of authority she stated “Because I’m trustworthy.”

Jemma’s new angle allowed her to see the contents of a framed photo on Mack’s desk. In the picture, she saw two familiar faces. The tall man who currently sat in front of her with his arm around a much smaller man who she saw every day. Before Mack even got a chance to say something in response to her promise of reliability, she added, “You know Fitz?”

He looked surprised, but after a glance at the picture he understood. “Yeah, he’s my buddy. Known him for years. You know him?”

“Well, yes, he’s my lab partner.”

“Wait… what’s your name again?”

“Jemma,” she replied to refresh his memory. “Jemma Simmons.”

“Jemma! That’s your first name! Oh yeah, I remember telling him he’d have you for a partner, but that was a while ago. To be fair, though, he’s talked about you ever since. I was forced to tune him out.”

“He… he talks about me?”

Mack nodded, humming in affirmation. “All the time.”

Jemma suddenly felt a strange loss of the ability to hold a decent conversation, so she immediately searched for an answer if she can be excused. “So, Mack, you’ve told me your two concerns?”

“Yeah, I guess- but Ms Simmons-”

Jemma cringed. What did he want?

“Fitz doesn’t know about any of this, does he?”

“Not that I know of,” Jemma said, keeping her voice neutral. In all realities she was by now almost completely convinced that Fitz was not a Red Skull.

“Please don’t tell him,” Mack said, his concern making him seem less imposing than ever. “I don’t know much about these people, but I do know they’re dangerous. Knowing Fitz, he’d probably do something stupid and dangerous if he found out. I don’t want him getting hurt.”

“Of course,” Jemma said, and she meant it. She couldn’t stand to see Fitz hurt. Once again eager to leave, she said, “Well, is that all?”

Mack nodded.

“Brilliant! I really should be on my way!” she exclaimed, nearly knocking over a paperweight as she hastily got up. “You know, stuff to do, bookshelves to assemble. Excuse me, goodbye, and have a nice night!”

With that she wasted no time in practically scrambling out of the door, once again almost breaking two things in the process. She thought she heard a small snicker come from the room behind her. 

At least she’d been productive for once.

Even if Fitz had _still_ somehow managed to get himself involved in her work, even if it was indirectly.


	10. Chapter 10

Chatter buzzed pleasantly like bees around the café as the sun peeked out shyly from behind a patch of clouds. Fitz was staring in mild awe at the way Jemma’s hair frizzed slightly from wetness from the recent rainstorm they’d been caught in on the way there. Luckily their jackets had taken the majority of the downpour, but her forehead hadn’t been covered and wasn’t quite so lucky. Unlucky for her, at least. He quite liked the look of it. Her mouth was moving up and down and he could hear her sweet voice chirruping something or other as he watched her lip gloss gleam in the-

Fitz felt something powerful sack him in the shoulder. “Ow!” he protested, glaring at his attacker. “The hell was that for, Mack?”

Mack leaned back in his chair and chugged a sip from his can of Coke. “Jemma asked you a question, but you clearly weren’t listening to a word she was saying so I just needed a way to get your attention.”

“Rude,” Fitz grumbled, taking a bite from his sandwich. “Sorry, Jemma, what was that?” he asked, mouth full of bread. Way to go, Fitz, he thought. Talking with your mouth full of egg mayo is the best way to keep it cool around your co-worker/best friend/ person-you-have-a-gigantic-crush-on.

Luckily Jemma took it with grace, as she did everything. “I was just saying that it’s so nice the rain has finally stopped and we could get out. I wanted to thank you two for inviting me out to lunch.”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” Fitz said.

“Honestly, I was surprised I could drag you two away from your work at all,” said Mack. “You two work so well together, half the time I can’t even understand what you’re on about, but you two are always on the same page. It’s like you’re psychically linked or something.”

Fitz was never sure what to do with praise; he just stuttered.

Jemma, who had by now gotten used to swooping in and saving him when he was lost for words, said, “Well, I don’t know about the psychically linked part, but Dr Turgeon is rather happy with our work on the ICERs.”

“Night-Night Guns,” Fitz mumbled under his breath. But he didn’t push it. The argument he and Jemma had had over the name of their new paralysing weapon was the closest thing they had had to a real fight.

Jemma finished the last bite of her salad and rose from their table. “Excuse me,” she said. “I’m just going to use the bathroom.”

“Go ahead,” Mack said.

With a cheerful wave, Jemma headed in the direction of the washroom. Immediately, Mack turned towards Fitz. “You finally seem to have found a partner you can work with,” he said. “I’m happy for you, buddy.”

“Thanks,” Fitz said. “Do we really finish each other’s sentences?”

“Like an old married couple.”

Fitz groaned. Mack laughed.

“Speaking of couples,” Mack said deviously. “You’re into her, aren’t you?”

Fitz sputtered, a few drops of soft drink escaping his lips. “Uh, I- what are you-“

Mack snickered. “Come on man, it’s _glaringly_ obvious. I don’t blame you, she’s pretty. Plus, she’s the only person I’ve ever met who’s as smart as you.”

Fitz supposed he only had himself to blame, if Mack had picked up on it. But - oh God, if Mack figured it out, then surely Jemma Simmons, the genius he spent at least eight hours every weekday with would have figured it out too. She obviously wouldn’t feel the same way, so of course she wouldn’t mention it. That was alright with Fitz. He’d just try harder to keep his feelings in check. He’d get over it. Whatever he might feel for Jemma, Fitz didn’t think it was worth losing one of the best friends he ever had.

“You still with me, Fitz?” Mack’s voice sliced his thoughts in two.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry.”

Fitz could see a furtive look on Mack’s face. As Mack leaned closer to him, Fitz felt confused.

“Before she comes back,” Mack whispered. “I wanted to get your opinion on something.”

“What is it?” Fitz asked. Where could this possibly be going?

Mack paused, like he was trying to figure out the best way to say his next few words. “I really like Jemma,” he started carefully. “But I can’t help thinking there’s… there’s something _off_ about her.”

Fitz didn’t understand. He wasn’t sure he even _wanted_ to understand. “What do you mean, off?”

“I just - I can’t explain it really. I just feel like her intentions working for Shield aren’t exactly pure.” Mack absentmindedly plucked Fitz’s straw from his soft drink can. Fitz would usually complain, but he didn’t think now was the time.

“Like what? You think she’s a corporate spy or something.”

“Spy, maybe,” Mack said darkly. “Whether it’s for a company-“

Was Mack thinking what Fitz thought he was thinking? “You - you think she’s a cop?”

Mack shrugged. “Dunno.”

Fitz laughed nervously. “But she couldn’t be. Not Jemma. Besides, what has Shield done that’s illegal?”

“Nothing, far as I know,” Mack said, his eyes staring thoughtfully down at the table as he twisted Fitz’s straw into a knot. 

Fitz could see by the way Mack’s eyes didn’t meet his, that he wasn’t telling him something. Did he know something? About Shield? About Jemma? But Mack would tell him, wouldn’t he? They were buddies. Fitz decided to let it go. Picking up the conversation, he said, “I guess so. I always thought Turgeon was a bit dodgy-"

“You’re just saying that because he gives you so much work.”

They laughed. Mack flicked the crumpled straw across the table to Fitz. He tisked at it in disapproval before lobbing it over towards a rubbish bin. However, his aim with lightweight straws wasn’t as good as with coffee cups and it landed on the ground near a couple who glared at him in response.

“Whoops,” Fitz chuckled, turning back to Mack. “Anyway, I think it’s ridiculous. You’re over-analysing this. Maybe you should get Turgeon to give you more work.” Fitz wasn’t sure he fully believed that, but he didn’t want to make a fuss. Fitz could tell Mack wouldn’t tell him anything more even if he pressed. It seemed he only wanted to know if Fitz was aware of whatever was plaguing his mind.

“I suppose so, buddy,” Mack said. “What’s taking her so long, anyway?”

“Ah, you know girls,” Fitz said lightly. He spied someone walking towards them. “There she is.”

And as Jemma returned to them, bouncing on her feet and eyes alight with a smile, Fitz laughed Mack’s concern away. Jemma, a spy? Never.

***

Jemma pressed the end call button, noting the time she had spent on the phone with Coulson. He had picked the most convenient time to text her, _Call in ASAP_. She walked out of the bathroom, hoping the guys hadn’t noticed her long absence.


	11. Chapter 11

Jemma studied the list she and the guys from the Mechanics Department had compiled of suspected Red Skulls. She had tried to keep Mack and his crew out of the way as much as possible, not wanting them in the crossfire in case things got ugly. But she had to admit they’d been a huge help. Having worked at Shield a much longer time than she had, the Mech guys knew everyone a lot better than she.

Jemma had already been able to cross out two of the names on the list, and the third was circled for further inspection. Right now, though, she turned her attention to the fourth- one Donnie Gill. Jemma had only met the guy a few times but she knew him by reputation. Scientist, floor six, a bit of a loner. Smart. Almost as smart as Fitz and herself.

Word around the lunch room was that he was a pretty shy guy, but once you cracked his exterior he was very happy to go on about his work. That could bode well for Jemma.

At his position in Shield, Donnie would have to be a pretty low rank within the Red Skulls, but he was an access point. Jemma needed to talk to him.

The only question was, how? The workload for her and Fitz had picked up again; she wouldn’t be able to get away for long enough to talk to Donnie. Jemma doubted that she’d be able to meet him outside work, they barely knew each other. She guessed that left the lunch hour. Apparently Donnie usually sat by himself anyway, so it would be quite easy to have a private conversation in the break room.

***

As the lunch bell rang, Jemma realised there was one hitch in her plan she hadn’t counted on. Fitz.

“Ready to go?” he asked as he picked up his sandwich.

Jemma squirmed inwardly. She didn’t want to hurt her friend’s feelings, but she wanted to compromise the mission even less.

“Um, I’m,” she paused, “going to eat in the break room today.”

Jemma felt her heart constrict a little at Fitz’s shocked expression. “Why?” he asked.

Jemma tried to put on a smile. “Well, I’ve been here for seven weeks and I barely know anyone, I figured I should put myself out there and make some friends.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Fitz wasn’t pushing, but Jemma could see he was upset. He was clutching his sandwich tighter than usual, speaking in one word sentences, and he seemed very interested in the floor. In all reality, Jemma would much rather spend her time tucked away with him in their secret room, but she couldn’t get anything done from in there. And she couldn’t invite Fitz into the break room if she wanted a private conversation with Donnie.

“Well, I‘m going now. Bye,” Fitz mumbled as he shuffled out.

Jemma sighed.

***

The break room was chaotic. There really was no other word to describe it. Noise everywhere, voices and the click-clack of plates. Jemma was pretty sure the thing that had just flew by her head was a piece of baloney. She now understood why Fitz preferred to eat by himself.

She navigated past a few tables, searching for Donnie, until she spotted him sitting by himself at a table in a corner. Perfect.

Jemma approached the table confidently. As she approached, Donnie looked up, seemingly surprised at the company.

Jemma flashed him a grin. “May I sit here?”

He looked taken aback. “Yeah… I guess.”

Jemma took a seat across from him and opened her lunch. At closer inspection, Jemma realised Donnie was just a kid. He couldn’t have been much older than she had been when she began working at Ross Pharmaceuticals.

“You’re Donnie, right?” she asked.

He nodded. “I’ve seen you around a few times, but I don’t think we’ve ever really talked.”

“My name is Jemma Simmons. I work on floor seven.” Jemma judged by the way Donnie folded into himself at that that she had said something wrong.

Donnie stabbed a piece of lettuce on his plate. The crunch of metal stabbing through leaf sounded in Jemma’s ears as she watched Donnie lift the fork and then pluck the lettuce off to transfer into his mouth with his fingers. He chewed it delicately, mouth barely moving, teeth hardly making a sound.

Jemma was going to have to try harder to get through to him, but she didn’t want to come on too strong. She leaned back in her chair casually, features naturally curving into a smile as she turned her charm on.

“Would you like to hear a joke my lab partner told me?” she asked.

“Okay,” Donnie replied after swallowing his food. He seemed wholly apathetic. Jemma hoped this would work. She supposed if it didn’t she had a whole host of lame science jokes for backup.

“Schrödinger’s cat walks into a bar. And doesn’t.”

The eye-roll Donnie had begun at the start of her seemingly standard joke turned into a laugh. “Alright, you got me. Here’s one: a neutron walks into a bar and orders a beer. The bartender says-“

Jemma couldn’t resist joining him, and they said together- “for you, no charge.”

They both chuckled.

“I think a firm grounding in science jokes is a requirement for being a genius,” said Donnie with a small smile.

“I could not agree more,” Jemma replied.

Donnie was easier to talk to than Jemma thought he would be. She still needed to earn his trust before she could get anything useful out of him, but for now she was content with seeing who had the corniest science pick-up line. She’d be back tomorrow to warm him up further.

***

Two days later, Jemma and Donnie’s relationship had progressed to the point where they could have an actual conversation.

“So, what kind of things are you working on?” Jemma asked, fiddling with her fork.

“Just basic designs, really,” Donnie said. “Shield tells me what they want and I make it for them.”

The way he said it, it sounded like Donnie was not quite satisfied with his job. That confused Jemma. Even if she technically didn’t work for Shield Developments, she found that she really did enjoy working for them. The workload could be brutal, yes, but they gave her and Fitz all the resources they needed and plenty of freedom to experiment. If she didn’t know that the company was housing a major criminal organisation, she’d have been thrilled to be an employee there.

“Don’t you get time to work on your designs? I’m sure you have plenty,” Jemma said kindly. After all, she was always having to drag Fitz away from whatever wacky thingamabob he was working on to make him do the work they were actually assigned.

Donnie sighed. “What you maybe don’t understand, Jemma, is that Shield stations its best scientists on floor seven. Floor eight is management, which at least gives you some power, even if you don’t get to experiment. On floor six, we’re sort of the B Team.”

Jemma was a bit shocked at that. She hadn’t realise such segregation occurred, though she supposed it was the best solution in the name of efficiency. What she didn’t understand was what a mind as bright as Donnie’s was doing stuck on the sixth floor.

“Surely you should be up on the seventh floor with us,” she said.

“That’s the problem,” Donnie said bitterly. “I can get all the floor six work done so much faster than the rest of the buffoons down there. They don’t want to give me up to floor seven because they know that I’m what’s keeping that place afloat.”

Jemma hadn’t expected to end up feeling sorry for Donnie coming in. But she had a job to do. It made sense that, seeing as Shield didn’t see Donnie’s value, the Red Skulls would be able to offer him work to suit his intellect. But how would she get him to admit that?

Jemma decided to bite the bullet. If Donnie wasn’t going to talk now, he probably didn’t know anything. She leaned in closer so people at the surrounding tables couldn’t hear them. “Hey, I’ve heard chatter around about some secret projects being handed down to people. Do you know anything about that?”

Jemma knew at Donnie’s knowing smile that she had struck gold. “So you know about it too,” he whispered. A confused look shadowed his face. “Why didn’t you just say the code?”

Jemma tensed. She seemed to have dug herself into a hole. She only hoped she could get out of it. “I-“

“Or are you not a member?” Donnie asked, realising the fact. “If you’re interested, they’re always looking for more people to help out.”

“I’d like to learn more,” Jemma said.

Donnie smiled. “Sure. We probably shouldn’t talk about it here, though. Wanna come down to my lab?”

“Sounds good,” Jemma said, hiding her internal excitement. If she played her cards right, Donnie could be her key into the Red Skulls.

Donnie rose from the table and Jemma followed suit. As they navigated the lunch room, heading toward the elevator, Donnie murmured to her, “The code changes every week. This week it’s ‘Hail Hydra’. We use it to find other people working on the secret projects.”

Stepping into the privacy of the elevator, Jemma asked, “What if the person you say it to isn’t in on it?”

“Then you just make something up,” said Donnie. “My favourite thing to do is pretend they’re phrases from obscure video games. People never question it.”

 _That makes sense_ , Jemma thought. Suspected Red Skulls were always exchanging whispers before continuing to discuss their business.

As they stepped out on to floor six, Jemma was surprised. The corridor was smaller, more dimly lit than floor seven. As they passed labs, Jemma noted that the equipment was subpar to the shiny new machines she worked with. No wonder Donnie wanted to work on her floor

“Here’s where I work,” Donnie said as they entered a lab significantly bigger and better equipped than the ones surrounding.

“It’s pretty nice,” Jemma said, admiring an intricate toolkit.

“After I started working on the secret projects they let me work in here, by myself too,” Donnie said proudly. “It makes being stuck on floor six a bit more bearable.”

“Why do you always call them secret projects?” Jemma asked.

“Well, that’s the thing. They’re secret, aren’t they? Everyone who’s a member gets assigned special projects on top of their regular work. I don’t know many other members, but I know there’re lots. They don’t tell us much about the work they give us, but I don’t mind because it’s so much more interesting than the other stuff Shield hands me.”

“And this group - what do they call themselves anyway?”

“Beats me,” Donnie said as he swept up some papers in an attempt to organise them, only to make a bigger mess. Jemma was reminded of Fitz. “Everything’s need to know.”

“Do you know if they’re a section of Shield Developments? Or something else entirely?”

Donnie shrugged. “Dunno. But I s’pose if they were a part of Shield they wouldn’t have to be so secretive, would they?”

Jemma was feeling a little frustrated at this point. She had finally met a Red Skull; of course it had to be the one that didn’t know anything. But, she reminded herself, most of their lower-level members would probably be kept in the dark as much as possible. Hiding her annoyance so Donnie felt comfortable, she continued to probe, “And do you know what happens with the work you do?”

“Not really, no.”

“And this doesn’t concern you at all?”

“Should it? I’m getting paid extra to work on these projects, I get my own nice lab and I get to do the best work I’ve ever done working here. I owe these guys the benefit of the doubt.”

Jemma felt sad that the ignorance of Shield was allowing people like Donnie to be exploited by the Red Skulls. He could be using his intellect to do massive good, and instead was partly unknowingly aiding a massive criminal organisation.

“Anyway, are you interested?” Donnie asked excitedly.

Jemma pretended to consider, figuring that’s what she’d do if she didn’t know exactly what working on these ‘secret projects’ entailed. “How do I join?”

“Well, why don’t you start by working on one of my projects with me, and we can go from there. If you want to be assigned your own I suppose you’ll have to talk to someone higher up. I can put in a good word for you.”

“Sounds good,” Jemma said, putting on a smile.

“Cool,” Donnie said. “But one thing - you can’t tell anyone. Never discuss these things unless you’ve said the code and heard it back.”

“Don’t worry,” said Jemma. “I won’t tell a soul.”

***

Skye clicked away from the game of Minesweeper she was discreetly playing in the office when she heard a message notification. Seeing it was from Jemma, she quickly opened it in anticipation.

_Have discovered a Red Skull. Infiltration successful. Further intel pending._

***

“Morning, Fitz!” she greeted cheerfully, hoping he’d respond with the same enthusiasm.

“…Hey.”

It had been a bit chilly between her and Fitz lately. Jemma couldn’t blame Fitz. After all, she had suddenly stopped eating lunch with him with no real explanation. They still worked together, but their rhythm had become somewhat out of sync. They were becoming more distant, drawing away from each other more and more as working together became less efficient.

Jemma missed their old chemistry. But she had a job to do, and she couldn’t let any attachments she may or may not have made get involved.

They had been working on their latest project mostly separately, collaborating only when it was necessary to ensure both their halves synced up. So Jemma was surprised when Fitz asked, “Uh, you wanna give me a hand with this design?”

Jemma cringed inwardly. She would have jumped at the chance to work closely with Fitz again but today was not a day she could do that. “Um, actually, I’m heading downstairs today to work on something with Donnie Gill.”

Jemma couldn’t tell what emotion it was that crossed Fitz’s face. “Alright. Nevermind,” he replied somewhat bitterly.

He focused his attention back to his work, and didn’t look up again, even as Jemma said goodbye.

Jemma sighed as she stepped into the elevator. This mission was making her lose the best friend she had had since Trip. As she leaned her forehead against the cold metal of the door, she wondered if that was what he would have wanted.

***

“Hail Hydra.”

Donnie snorted as he looked up at Jemma. “That was last week’s code, silly. It’s ‘Schmidt’ now.”

“My mistake,” Jemma said as she walked into the lab. “Who chooses these codes anyway?”

“Not me, that’s for sure,” Donnie laughed.

“So,” Jemma said, making herself comfortable on a chair. “Where do we start?”

Working with Donnie, Jemma found, was not unpleasant. But at the same time, she did not have the same connection with him as she did with Fitz. They eventually found a rhythm, but it was not the same as the natural ease that was second nature to her around her own lab partner.

The project file they were working on, sure enough, bore the Red Skull insignia under Shield Developments’ logo. Jemma knew from periodic snooping that there were many others scattered around Donnie’s lab. Thinking it too risky to photocopy or fax them, as that would leave a record, Jemma had been snapping pictures of the files with her phone whenever Donnie left the room.

Jemma had barely seen Fitz over the last three days, but when she did he didn’t say a word to her. Jemma hoped they would be able to patch their friendship up after she got the intel she needed from Donnie. She definitely didn’t expect to stay on floor six forever.

They had been working on Donnie’s latest ‘secret project’ for five hours straight when Donnie put his screwdriver down. “I’m going out to the vending machine,” he said. “Want anything?”

“No thanks,” Jemma said. “I want to get this dose right.”

As Donnie left the lab, Jemma put the test tube she was holding back in a rack carefully and then rushed over to the drawer. Opening it hastily, she pulled out the last Red Skull file she hadn’t taken a picture of. Jemma snapped a few pictures with her smartphone and, after making sure they were legible, shoved the file back into the drawer.

She had just reached her side of the lab again when Donnie entered, munching on a chocolate bar that was technically not allowed in the lab. Jemma had given up on stopping Fitz eating in the lab a long time ago, and she never even bothered to start with Donnie.

“I ran into a member on my way back,” he said. “I told him I knew someone interested in joining up.”

“What did he say?” Jemma asked eagerly.

“He said he’d consider it.”

“Thank you, Donnie.” He would probably never know just how helpful he had been to her. Until he was being arrested for involvement with the Red Skulls, anyway. Jemma clenched her toes uncomfortably. Donnie, though he didn’t play all that well with others, was not a bad person. He was just a lonely engineer, too smart for those around him. He’d simply gotten involved with wrong crowd. He reminded her of Fitz.

***

The FBI was very pleased with the work she had done with Donnie. Jemma had been instructed to wait and see if the Red Skulls would make contact. Having gotten all she needed from Donnie, Jemma started hanging out with him less, though she still made an effort to go see him once in a while, as not to arouse suspicion. It wasn’t a chore, really.

It had been extremely awkward the first time Jemma had reappeared in their secret lunch room, but as Jemma began consistently returning every day, Fitz began to open up again. Soon, they were tentatively making jokes. After that, they began the high-speed science babble once more. When Jemma teased Fitz about chewing with his mouth open and he took it in his stride, she knew things were alright.

They were sitting in the lab, Jemma holding a clipboard, Fitz holding an apple, when she felt the need to explain herself. “Fitz?”

“Mmph?” he mumbled, mouth full of fruit.

Jemma resisted rolling her eyes. “I wanted to apologise for disappearing for a while, I-“

Fitz raised a hand to stop her. He quickly gulped down his apple. “No, I was the one who made things weird. You have a right to get out there and make friends other than me. I guess I was just angry that you were hanging with Donnie Gill?”

Jemma was confused. “Why Donnie?”

Fitz shifted uncomfortably. “We have a bit of a history, Donnie and I. I don’t suppose you know any of it?”

Jemma though back to her conversations with Donnie. “Actually, now that I think of it, he always changed the subject whenever I mentioned you.”

“That sounds about right,” said Fitz. “I guess it’s story time, then?”

“Only if you want to tell me,” Jemma said, not wanting to push her friend.

“Nah, it’s alright,” Fitz said thickly through another bite of apple. “So, where to start? At the _start_ , I guess.”

Jemma giggled.

Fitz gave her a lock of mock indignation before lobbing his apple core into a small desktop biohazard container. “I met Donnie when he started working at Shield, uh- must have been about two years ago by now. I was on floor six back then. I suppose Shield figured: he’s smart, I’m smart. Put us together and we’ll be twice as smart. But it didn’t really work that way. Neither of us played well with others. In fact, the only lab partner I’ve ever really worked well with is you.”

Jemma smiled at that. She shifted a little closer to Fitz. “What happened next?”

Fitz went on, “Shield realised pretty quickly that putting us together wasn’t productive. So they pitted us against each other instead. Well, it got heated, fast. And I suppose the real animosity began when I was snooping at his designs- not my finest moment, I admit,” Fitz said at Jemma’s horrified look.

He continued, “And, well, you know how I can be a bit of a butterfingers at times. I accidently dropped one of his prototypes - it was an accident, I swear! I would ever have destroyed such a beautiful piece of engineering. But Donnie was pissed, of course, and he didn’t believe that. He thought I sabotaged his project on purpose, so he got me back by destroying some of my stuff. When I caught him at it, there was a lot of fighting and smashing and maybe even a small fire involved.”

“Oh my goodness,” Jemma said, shaking her head.

“Well, Shield was dangling a promotion as an incentive for us to work harder against each other. But after that incident, they decided we were too destructive together and made the executive decision to separate us. I got moved up here because I had been here longer and I made it up to them eventually, but from what I’ve heard they usually stick Donnie with the boring projects.”

“Poor thing,” Jemma sympathized. No wonder Donnie was so spiteful about his position.

“I feel guilty, y’know,” Fitz said. “I feel like it’s my fault he’s stuck down there instead of up here. Brain like his, he belongs on this floor.”

“Maybe you should go talk to him,” Jemma said.

“Oh, God no,” Fitz said. “I couldn’t - he wouldn’t want to talk to me anyway.”

“You never know,” Jemma told him. “Besides, if you two got along, imagine the things you could come up with together.”

“Things ended rather disastrously when we tried that.” Fitz said, a melancholy expression appearing on his face.

“Lunch at Gonzales’?” Fitz asked suddenly.

Jemma could tell he didn’t want to talk about this anymore, so she let the subject drop. She too was ready for a bit of quiet lunch. Besides, the cake at Gonzales’ was pretty great.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Jemma was measuring a dose of dendrotoxins in the lab when she heard the quiet whoosh of the door opening. Confused, she looked up, and saw Fitz do the same. She was genuinely puzzled when she saw a tall, dark-haired man walk in. Jemma was pretty sure he was a security guard. She was also pretty sure he was a Red Skull.

“Fitzsimmons?” he asked, using the cute nickname coined for them a couple of weeks back, because apparently they were so tight people viewed them as one entity. It offended Jemma slightly, but it also gave her a warm feeling inside.

“Fitz,” she told him, pointing across the lab to the man in question.

“Simmons.” Fitz did the same. Under his breath, she heard him mutter “Ward?”

By the look on the guy’s face, it seemed the revelation that there were two of them had cleared things up. Jemma had experienced a few times before people looking for one of them, then becoming extremely befuddled when other employees directed them to a mysterious ‘Fitzsimmons’.

“Alright,” he said dully. “Apologies. I’d like to see Dr Jemma Simmons, please.”

 _Oh, dear._ Jemma managed to keep a straight face. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked innocently.

“We’ll discuss it outside.”

As Jemma quickly rearranged her experiment and slipped around the bench, she caught Fitz looking at her, something indiscernible is his eyes. Jemma faked a small smile, trying to comfort him.

She followed the security guard/Red Skull out of the lab and down the corridor. Jemma wondered where they could be going. When they reached a door, the man stopped. “Here is good,” he said.

“Um - that’s the cleaner’s cupboard,” Jemma protested.

“I said, here is good.” He opened the door.

Jemma stepped in among the brooms and cleaning products, dreading that this wouldn’t end well. “You know,” she mused. “If you don’t want to be seen, perhaps here is not the best place. You see, there’s a security camera right there-“

“I know,” the man said, closing the door and plunging them into darkness. As he switched on a light, he said, “I’m in charge of this floor. Nobody’s watching.”

Oh, god, this was it, wasn’t it? He had figured out she was here spying on the Red Skulls, and now he was going to kill her. Jemma thought sadly of Fitz, who would never understand what had happened. At least she’d get the chance to see Trip again -

“You listening to me, Dr Simmons?” The man’s voice cut through her thoughts sharply.

All Jemma could manage was a squeak as she trembled. She shuffled back slightly, her hand reaching behind her, grasping for something she could use as a weapon.

“You don’t have to be scared,” he said. “We’re just in here to chat.” Jemma relaxed slightly, but she was still distrustful.

The man extended a hand. “Grant Ward.”

Jemma took a small breath to calm herself and grasped his hand. So that’s what Fitz had meant when he mumbled the name. Now, that she thought about it, she remembered his story about his old supervising officer. Ward was his name! Her feelings were very mixed indeed, because on one hand she was still scared about this encounter, then she felt sort of sad that the man hadn’t remembered her friend, but underneath it all, a small part of her was amused by the fact that this man had been the one who was hung up over a specialist he worked with. He surely must have grown up since then.

“Jemma Simmons, but you already know that,” she introduced herself, glad that her voice wasn’t shaking. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Ward, but if I may ask - what are we doing in a janitor’s closet?”

“I was just about to get to that,” said Ward. “As for why we’re in here - the information I am about to divulge to you is of strict confidentiality. We don’t want any old dumb Shield worker overhearing.”

A flash of anger burned in Jemma’s stomach. Fitz was anything but dumb.

“Now, Dr Simmons, my supervisor has been very impressed with the work you have been doing at Shield Developments. We are working on a - er, secret project that we believe your skills would be very useful for.”

Was this what Jemma thought it was? Had she succeeded at getting in with the Red Skulls? “What kind of project?” she asked.

“That’s classified,” Ward said bluntly. “However, if you are interested in working with us, Mr Garrett will explain it all to you.”

 _Yes!_ Jemma had done it. John Garrett was a known Red Skull, and now he wanted her help on one of his ‘projects’? She presumed it was Hydra. It would be dangerous, going deep undercover with the Red Skulls, and in fact something Jemma was really hoping she wouldn’t have to do, but it would get her the intel she needed to take them down. Hopefully it didn’t end like before.

Jemma put on her best charming smile. “Well, I’m interested. When will I be briefed by Mr Garrett?”

“Immediately, as long as it suits you.”

Jemma thought of Fitz, alone in their lab, probably wondering where she was. But then she thought of Trip, his cold body brutally bruised from the torture he had endured before the Red Skulls killed him. “I assume he’s not going to talk to me in this closet.”

Ward smirked. “No, we’re going to floor fifteen.”

The fifteenth floor held all the executive’s offices. Jemma _had_ done it. She was so close to officially getting into the Red Skulls, and would then be in the prime position to crush them.

Ward checked that there was nobody in the corridor outside, then held the door open for her. As she passed his large frame, he said to her quietly, “And remember, this is top secret. Not a word to anybody, or there’ll be trouble for you.”

Jemma shuddered.

***

Jemma entered Shield’s building, eyes bleary. She smiled at Izzy as she always did, then got in the elevator, pressing the button to floor seven for the last time. The meeting with John Garrett had gone very well - she had gotten in with the Red Skulls. Upon meeting their personnel, there were people she was not surprised to see - Turgeon, Ward, Donnie Gill. But there were also people she never would have thought had it in them. At least Fitz hadn’t been there. She had never suspected him in the first place, but it was good to know for sure.

The Red Skulls had requested Jemma to move into the high clearance lab on floor nine to work on Hydra. It really wasn’t what Jemma wanted, she’d much rather stay on floor seven in her lab with Fitz- but she didn’t really work at Shield, she reminded herself. _Don’t get attached_.

Jemma left the elevator and headed towards the lab, really hoping that Fitz hadn’t decided to come in early today of all days. Knowing her luck, he very well could have. But she knew how much Fitz hated early mornings, and reckoned he wouldn’t be crazy enough to rouse himself at five o’clock in the morning.

Luckily, the lab was empty. Jemma only needed to grab a few things, most of the equipment she needed would be provided in the Red Skull’s lab. Arranging the things in a box neatly, she lifted it and exited the lab, squashing the longing to take one last look. _Don’t get attached,_ she repeated.

Jemma wondered how she could possibly break this news to Fitz. He would be hurt and confused and most likely devastated that she suddenly changed labs, and it’s not like she could explain why she had to do it without compromising a federal investigation. She couldn’t bring herself to move her stuff while Fitz was here, but she knew that she’d have to face him eventually. Better for him to hear it from her than the other scientists.

As Jemma walked down the hallway she saw someone approach. A needle of fear pricked her, but she had nothing to worry about. The Red Skulls had fed Shield the rumour she had been promoted. As Jemma neared the woman, she recognised her face. The Red Skulls had briefly shown Jemma a list of people involved with them, people she could trust. She hadn’t got a chance to take a picture of it; Garrett had been watching her the entire time she’d be looking at it, probably to make sure she didn’t do just that. Jemma had typed as many names as she could remember onto her phone afterward and studied them back at her apartment.

The woman gave Jemma a nod and knowing smile as she passed. Jemma tried to smile back. Whenever she saw someone on the list, it reminded her with a chill that at the bottom in recently dried ink, it read _Jemma Simmons._


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! Style3645 here to deliver you guys the last few chapters. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with us so far, and we hope you enjoy it as the climax approaches ;)

The first thing Fitz noticed upon entering the lab at seven in the morning was that Jemma’s potted plant was missing. She had purchased the delicate little carnation after decreeing the lab was too cold and sterile, and needed something to brighten it up. Fitz didn’t mind at all. Looking at the flower reminded him of Jemma, and thinking about her always brightened his day.

He hoped Jemma was the one who took it, so she would at least know where it was. But what reason would Jemma have to move the plant?

Fitz decided to put it in the back of his mind as he retrieved the blueprint he was working on last night. He could ask Jemma about it later. Right now he needed to focus on his new design- oh, God, look at that equation. Fitz must have been half asleep if he had thought 200 was equal to 36.

Fitz heard the lab doors open and looked up to see Jemma entering. She seemed… surprised to see him. “Oh - hi, Fitz,” she said, shifting uncomfortably.

“Hey,” Fitz greeted warmly. “Something wrong?”

“I - I just didn’t expect to see you in so early.”

“Well, I have twice as much coffee in me as usual to make up for it,” said Fitz with a small chuckle. He moved the blueprint to the side. “Did you move the flower?”

His question seemed to make Jemma extremely uncomfortable. He couldn’t imagine why.

“Look, Fitz-“ she began. He listened intently. She seemed to fumble for the words, and his diligent look only made her even more lost. “Maybe- maybe we should sit down.”

“Okay.” Fitz was becoming a little worried. He sat down in his chair as Jemma walked into the lab to lower herself into her own.

She scooted closer to him carefully. She opened her mouth a few times, then closed it. Fitz gripped the armrests of his chair unthinkingly, feeling a tension build in his chest

“I’m not… going to be working in this lab anymore.”

Fitz felt like one of Mack’s huge anvils had been dropped on his head. “I’m sorry, what?” he asked.

“I’ve been moved into Lab 903 two floors above us,” she repeated.

“But why?” It wasn’t the most eloquent response Fitz had ever come up with, but he was genuinely bewildered. He thought that he and Jemma worked well together. He thought they’d had something. The best lab partner he’d ever had couldn’t be leaving. Could she?

Jemma seemed to be choosing her next few words very carefully. Fitz was immediately distrustful. “I’ve received a promotion of sorts,” she explained.

Likely story, thought Fitz. He had been a loyal Shield employee for years. Jemma Simmons had been there all of two months. There was no possible way she could be promoted above him. “And what will you be doing in this new lab?” he asked, words coming out perhaps icier than he had originally intended.

Jemma’s eyes made contact with the floor as they replied, “I’m sorry, I can’t say. It’s a secret project.”

Fitz wasn’t quite sure what he was feeling. A little resentment, a little jealousy, a lot of confusion. But mostly betrayal. He felt like he had been kicked in the stomach. Someone could have gone and blown up all their research for the Night-Night Guns and he’d still feel better than this, because he and Jemma could rebuild them together. But now she was leaving.

He didn’t know if this “secret project” was a lie or not. He wasn’t sure if he wanted it to be. If Jemma had in fact been promoted, it meant that he was basically nothing to Shield. A mule. A foot soldier. And that thought was unbearable. But it was even more unbearable to think that Jemma would be leaving because she didn’t want to work with him. What had he done wrong?

Against his will, Fitz’s mind went to the time he’d asked her out. Originally, he’d simply been planning on watching a movie with her, but by time he was standing in front of her, blabbering about a superhero film, he knew it was more than that. She was more than that. And what had been her response? That she had plans, though earlier that day she’d been complaining about how she had nothing to do. So, either she was lying… or she honestly thought assembling a bookshelf was better than going on a date with him. Oh, god, he’d messed up. She was leaving to get away from him, wasn’t she?

Even from a professional standpoint, he should have expected this. Things always crashed and burned with his lab partners sooner or later. That’s probably why Shield didn’t value him, because he couldn’t work with anyone. It was no different with Jemma. But this time it hurt more than before. She was the only time he actually wanted it to work out.

“Fitz, are you listening to me?” Jemma’s voice was delicate. “Please say something.”

Fitz felt a prick of anger. “Why? You don’t care what I think anyway. No one does,” he added bitterly.

“Fitz, please.”

Fitz couldn’t hear her desperation through his emotion.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and she sounded like she meant it, but it didn’t matter now. “These things are out of my control - but maybe we can still work together?”

Fitz snorted. “You don’t have to pretend, Jemma. If you wanted to work with me you would stay here in our lab.” He rose from his chair and began walking towards the door.

He heard Jemma’s voice behind him. “Where are you going?”

“Downstairs,” Fitz said, not turning back.

When he reached the door he turned around for one last look at the woman still sitting in the chair, staring up at him sadly. “Have fun with your project, Simmons,” he said, before walking out the door resolutely without another backwards glance.

* * *

 

Jemma missed Fitz as soon as she realised she’d have to move labs. As she sat in her chair, thinking of him sitting there like a kicked puppy, she felt tears stinging the corners of her eyes. She wiped them away, annoyed at herself for causing herself and others so much pain. _So much for not getting attached._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, drama~
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! If you feel inclined, please leave a comment below to tell us what you thought. They really make our day!
> 
> Have a groovy day!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it guys. We've reached the climax. This chapter is the make-it or break-it of Jemma's mission. Will she succeed? Well, you'll just have to read on and see.
> 
> You have the amazing multifandomcircusfreak to thank for this absolute rollercoaster of a chapter :)
> 
> The paragraph gaps are massive in this one, sorry :( I'll edit it later when I have time.

Jemma felt guilty the second they placed her new ID card in her hand. Ward informed get that it would access more rooms and levels of the building than her old one, but for some reason she wasn't happy about it. Maybe it was because of what this "promotion" meant in the terms of who she was working for, even if it was a cover, and who was feeling betrayed because of her leaving to get there.

 

The first thing the Red Skulls made her do was sit through a day long meeting of initiation. They explained their organization, told her about the secrets they were keeping to stay inside Shield and how even though she now knew more than the average agent, secrets would still be kept from her. They went into great detail to explain the consequences she would face if she tried to dig deeper than she was allowed, or if she attempted to tell others about Hydra.

 

"I won't," she’d lied.

 

The next day with no time to waste, she looked over all the new information she'd been given access to. Within twelve hours, she'd learned about Daniel Whitehall, the CEO, and his right hand man, Dr Zola. She still didn’t have access to the chemical components of Hydra, but she pieced together a vague idea from her extended, but still rather limited research. She didn’t want to ruin it all by looking suspicious, so she had to play the very painful part of an eager scientist who just wanted to get her hands on all the new possibilities. In reality, that meant being miserable, yet fascinated, and downloading all of her findings onto a hard drive.

The worst part of her second day with the Red Skulls came when she was chatting with some of the sleeper agents that Shield viewed as the higher ups. Apparently, even with their near god-like image with their surface organization, they were still pretty low when it came to Hydra. Only a few levels above her, actually. Jemma was standing off to the corner with her new colleague talking about all the interesting things there were in the Red Skulls’ company when a painfully familiar face came into the same break room.

Fitz stared at her with a look of utter betrayal on his face when he saw her, casually talking with an agent who looked down on nearly everyone unless they were level eight or above. The poor man didn’t get it. She so dearly wanted to run over to her (former?) friend and explain the whole thing to him, but she knew she couldn’t. So instead, with the feeling of a thousand knives stabbing her heart, she turned away and continued her conversation. Intel was intel, after all.

The next day was a personal triumph for her. Completely disregarding Shield’s rules about when she could take her lunch break, she marched down the hallway that she always went down with Fitz and strode into the small room labeled Admin. Out of habit, she looked around the area to make sure that her old lab partner wasn’t there, lurking, waiting to accidentally foil her plans once more. He most definitely was nowhere to be found. Jemma pushed aside the irrational disappointment at this discovery… She was finally accomplishing the small task she had been given almost two months ago that could have ended her mission so much sooner. She should be happy.

So why wasn’t she?

Jemma shook her head to clear it and continued her path to the wall panel. Inhaling deeply as she rummaged in her bag for the opening device, and letting the breath out as she found it, she prepared herself for the outcome. She activated the little circle that she held in her hand, making it glow blue in certain spots and start to whir. Jemma thrusted it against the wall in the spot she remembered her sensors had detected the panel two months prior and gasped when it worked. The device caused a faint line of light to illuminate in a rectangular shape on the surface. Slowly, that section of the beige wall seemed to fold out of place and slide down, out of sight. Where it used to be was now a little keypad and scanner.

She was about to put in her old passcode, but after a moment’s thought, she realized that she had a new one. Maybe it would access more information. Quickly, she tapped it in, feeling like the air she had in her lungs was trapped there. The keypad beeped to tell her that her entry was accepted, and just when Jemma thought that the rest of the wall would slide back like the first part had, to allow her into the next room behind it, it didn’t. Hadn’t Skye said that the panel accessed the information-filled room next door? Had Jemma failed after all this time?

Her chest seized up in panic at the thought. She had come so far. How many nights had she spent sleeping in a bed that didn’t smell like home (but oh, how it had become that for her)? How many times had she been on the verge of tears because she’d realized that she was going to have to betray her best friend, even when she had tried not to get attached. Was he even her best friend anymore? He’d asked her out, for goodness sake! And she’d wanted to say yes... Did he hate her now? She couldn’t fail at this point.

Just as she felt tears creep into her eyes, she saw that the panel had begun to glow with a familiar light. It continued to brighten before projecting the light all around the room, creating a hologram of multiple rectangles all around her.

Jemma inhaled starkly at the sight, taking in what had just happened. Slowly, she reached her hand out to touch one of the blue rectangles. The second that her hand made contact, the shape elongated so that it was zoomed in, until she could see what it was. A file. She reversed the action so that she could go back, and realized that it was an entire gallery of files. Of information. Hurriedly, she continued opening and closing and navigating through everything the hologram had to offer. Altogether it was more than anything she’d seen earlier on her delegated computer.

She did it.

Jemma proceeded to dig through her bag frantically for her scanner and hard drive. She pulled them out of her bag, and clicked the scanner into place on the panel, then inserting the drive into the port. She began to bounce back and forth on her heels when she saw the little bar that told her how much had been downloaded onto the drive go up.

Finally, it was done. She actually did it. All of the Red Skulls’ information (or at least the important parts - considering this room must have been secret if she hadn’t been informed of its presence during initiation) was now safely stowed away on her hard drive. She hadn’t failed Trip after all.

She gathered up her things into her bag and quickly left the room, returning to her lab. The rest of the day was spent with her looking at the clock anxiously, waiting for the bell to ring so she could go back to her flat and send everything to Skye. Minutes before the day ended at last, she plucked her phone from her pocket and sent a quick succession of texts that Skye had informed her to use when the mission was complete, ending with a “Coming your way,” that meant she had the intel. Then she walked home with such a purpose that she was nearly running.

The second she reached her flat, and had succeeded in her attempts to fumble her key into opening the lock, she plopped down in the chair in front of her computer desk, turning on her urgent video chat with Skye.

Immediately after it was set up, without any pauses or greetings, Jemma’s friend demanded, “You’ve got it? The intel we need to take action?”

“Yes!” Jemma exclaimed triumphantly. “Finally!”

Skye sighed on the other end. “Well, that’s a relief. If we’d waited for more than another two weeks, the agency would have reprioritized our focus, so I wouldn’t be able to give you advice and you’d be on your own.”

She sighed at the thought of that hypothetical option. “Well, I’m glad that didn’t need to happen. Um… What now?”

Her friend laughed and held up a handheld device, waving it around amiably. “Now… You send me a copy of that hard drive. We’re going to need it if we’re going to finish this once and for all. I’ve set up a secure online passage, so if you would be so kind as to click the link I’m sending you right now, and upload your data to that.”

Right as she finished her sentence, Jemma’s computer beeped. Checking the message bar, she saw the aforementioned link. She clicked it and did as she was instructed, smiling as it loaded.

“Have you got it?” she asked hopefully, praying that it wouldn’t end up in cyberspace.

“Mhmm,” Skye hummed in response, looking down from the camera for a moment. “Got it. Which means….”

Jemma felt herself fill with excitement and nervousness when her colleague trailed off. “It means what?”

The hacker beamed animatedly. “Stage three starts tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Jemma stuttered. “So soon?” It felt odd to think about how long she’d been in Shield, completing her mission bit by bit, only to have it finish within a day.

“Jem, we need to get this over with. You’ve been in there so long, I thought you’d be happy to leave. No more Hydra or Red Skulls, or fear of being discovered, or even that annoying lab partner. Think about it. You’ll get to leave your cover! Go back to Boston! You can come home!”

Jemma smiled at Skye’s elated tone, and swallowed the twinge of defensiveness she felt when Fitz was deemed annoying. Home… That could still be Boston, couldn’t it? She would just need to get used to it again.

“You’re right,” she agreed. “Let’s get this over with.”

* * *

 

 The next morning was certainly a new experience for Jemma. It was almost like she could see the future, what with the knowledge she had about the upcoming events of that day, but at the same time she felt like she had no clue what was going to happen. Skye told her to go to work as usual, and not to dress in combat gear or anything, because they were hoping to have the element of surprise, and keep anything from tipping the enemy - including Jemma.

“You won’t even see the combat. We’ve got a team up for that. When I get there, the first thing I’ll do is come for you, and then you can help me out with your personal knowledge - the stuff you didn’t put on file.” That’s what Skye had said.

It didn’t make Jemma any less nervous.

She dressed in her usual work cardigans and jeans, but her fingers shook as she did up every one of her buttons. Her shower was longer than normal, because she caught herself staring into space multiple times, instead of washing. Her breakfast was small, because she couldn’t get her stomach to cooperate with large amounts of food. All in all, when she stared herself down in the mirror before she was supposed to leave, she looked exactly the same as she always did. It was on the inside that she felt so off.

It was almost like she’d put on a mask the second she walked into the Shield building just a little bit later. She arrived on time - to the dot, and she was smiling brightly and spoke chipperly. Yet

it all felt so fake. Maybe if she’d been downstairs with Fitz, she’d feel better, but no, she was up here surrounded by all of her enemies. Also known as the first people that the FBI would come for.

Jemma’s intel had included a list of known Red Skulls, so when her organization stormed the building and locked it down, they would hunt those people down first - just her luck, most of the people on that list were on this floor and the ones above it. She knew the procedure. She also knew that despite the fact that there were people affiliated with the Red Skulls hidden all throughout the building, and Skye’s promise to find her first, she would be in the crossfire.

She considered walking downstairs… maybe sneaking in a quick apology to Fitz, masquerading  it as a decision that she’d just so happened to make today. He’d understand her timing within a few hours, and just in case she was whisked away without a goodbye - or worse, he hated her for lying to him and spying when it was revealed who she’d really been working for. At the very least, she’d be away from the gunfire she’d grown to fear since Trip’s death, and she might be able to pull Fitz from what might soon be a warzone. Hide him in a closet… Hide them both in a closet… A small closet….

However, she knew that wasn’t an option. She was a new member of the Red Skulls and certainly hadn’t gained much of their trust, if any. If there was going to be anyone that they monitored, it was her. An ill-timed visit downstairs for a spontaneous apology could ruin everything. It could even be the cause of a body count.

So, instead of doing anything that would soothe her heart even a little bit, she went with her head and stayed upstairs, doing her work and taking extra care to hide her anxiety, but waiting for Skye’s team to show up every minute they didn’t barge through her doors. Her work could only distract her so much though, and Jemma often discovered that she’d been reading the same sentence five times over just to get it to make sense. Her brain was quite preoccupied - with thoughts swirling around her head of Fitz’s face when she’d left him before, but ten times as horrified when he found out what she’d done, or images of the higher ups with the Red Skulls, giving her murderous glares and promising with their last breaths that they’d get revenge for her meddling, and even awful pictures of bodies lying throughout the hallways, good and evil alike.

At exactly 1:03 in the afternoon, Jemma heard a commotion coming from the hallway. Yelling, grunting,  few gunshots, and orders being shouted at comrades could be heard from wherever they were starting. Her breathing instantly turned shallow, and suddenly she was very grateful for the fact that she had her lab all to herself. Her phone beeped and Jemma instantly whipped it out, reading the text she’d received from her friend.

Stage three is a go.

Seconds later, another message appeared on the screen.

Wait for me.

Jemma tried to calm herself, hoping that every one of the agents who were currently storming the building had been briefed to know that even though her name had been on the list of Red Skulls, she wasn’t one of them. Relying on her training like muscle memory, she slowly got out of her seat and moved to the back of the room, keeping her back away from the way, but instead pressed up against a cabinet.

The noises outside of her lab became louder, and Jemma’s breath came out in even shorter puffs. You could tell that it was a fight between two sides now. She felt bad for the innocent Shield agents who thought they were under attack. None of them could possibly have any clue what was going on. They must be so scared…

Fitz.

Her feet started moving before she realized what she was doing, and before she knew it she had grabbed her keys with one hand and was reaching for the door with the other, putting herself in a very dangerous position. Suddenly, the door handle started turning and her chest felt tight with panic. A woman clad in combat gear came marching through the door, bumping into Jemma, who was standing only two feet away from the entrance. Luckily for her, said woman was Skye.

“What the hell, Jemma?!” she exclaimed forcefully. “What were you thinking, being that close to the door? I could have been anyone walking in!”

“I just started walking before I knew what I was doing, Skye.”

The other woman just stood there, one hand holding her gun at her side, the other one rubbing her temple. “You’re going to get yourself killed one day, Jem.”

“I know,” she mumbled under her breath so her friend couldn’t hear it.

“Come on,” Skye commanded. “I’m relocating you so you’re out of the crossfire. We’ve secured the fourth floor. Everyone’s being evacuated. If they fight back we knock them out and take them while they’re unconscious. Everyone’s going into custody.”

“Everyone?!”

“Yep. We’re not taking any chances. We’ve set up a base nearby. Those who are stated as Red Skulls on your list will be taken away to a better management facility for interrogating and incarceration, everyone else will be questioned and if they’re cleared… They get to go.”

Jemma nodded somberly, before a thought occurred to her. “Wait, what’s the status on the seventh floor?”

Skye paused for a second to think, then answered, “That’s a tricky one. Some Red Skulls are using it as a gateway in an attempt to get away. We’re going to wipe that level down - one way or another.”

Jemma’s mind went blank. She didn’t process any consequences as she started moving towards and out the door of her lab, or Skye’s protests as she yelled at her to get back to where she was. Her feet simply kept moving frantically, taking her to where she’d been too scared to go earlier.

One thought passed through her mind only. Fitz.

She ran down the hallways, passing multiple people dressed in black scurrying around, and numerous fist and gun fights as she went. She tried to get to the elevators, but quickly realized that they were being blocked by agents who surely wouldn’t let her pass. Immediately, she changed course and raced to the stairwell, shoving anyone who was in her way aside. Only a portion of her brain clued into the fact that one of the men she saw was a Red Skull she recognized. She elbowed him extra hard in the ribs on her way.

She flew down the stairs like a madwoman, trying to find her best friend as quickly as she could. Jemma ignored Skye’s shouting as she ran after her. Luckily, she didn’t quite manage to catch up, due to Jemma’s frantic speed, and the amount of people around every corner, trying to escape or stop someone else from escaping, blocking her.

Jemma finally descended the stairs, and from there it was muscle memory. She weaved down each one of the hallways. A memory of the time she and Fitz had been chased by a superior officer after they had nearly been caught trying to sneak into a board room flashed into mind. They’d never been discovered, and no one had seen their faces, meaning that she had no bad image of the event. Those were good times..

She was vaguely aware that she should slow down and check around her for people who could try and harm her, but that simply didn’t seem very important at the time. She turned around a corner and had quite a scare when she was greeted by a bullet whistling by her at high speed - one that would have hit her in the chest had she been the slightest bit faster. It was almost like it had happened in slow motion. It took her a second to regain her focus, but then she was back to running - her heart pounding that much harder this time.

Finally, she arrived at her destination. Their lab. Well, technically now it was only Fitz’s lab now, but she still felt like she belonged there twice as much as she belonged in the one the Red Skulls had given her. Unthinkingly, she flung the door open and dashed inside, her eyes skimming the area for her best friend. She spotted him in a corner, a look of fear and confusion on his face. He still hadn’t noticed her presence, since he seemed to be preoccupied with calming himself down. Without the hesitation that she should probably possess, she ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck.

That appeared to snap him out of whatever little world he’d been in, and immediately his arms were around her too, holding her tight. “Jemma?” he asked in amazement. “What are you - Do you have any clue what’s going on? I… I heard gunshots and yelling and people are running around outside and I haven’t the faintest idea what’s happening.”

She pulled away just enough to look him in the eyes. “Yes - you see, about that-”

Her sentence was interrupted by Skye bursting through the lab doors with an absolutely murderous look on her face. “What the actual hell, Jemma Simmons?!” she barked. Out of the corner of her eye, Jemma could see that Fitz was visibly taken aback by the display, and also the fact that this FBI agent knew her.

“I’m sorry, Skye. I needed to make sure he was okay.”

“He?” she pressed. “You ran through a completely unsafe building so that you could see him?” Her face became even more incredulous as she jutted her hands out at the man in front of her to emphasize her words. “Who even is he?”

Jemma stood up tall, trying to put as much dignity as she could muster into her image. “He is my lab partner. Also known as Dr Leo Fitz.”

Skye crossed her arms at the sight. “So this is Fitz.”

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and averting her friend’s stare, she answered “Yes,” quietly.

The hacker sighed in exasperation and pulled her tablet out of a pouch on her utility belt. Scrolling through it intently instead of looking up as she spoke, she continued. “Hmm. Well, I’ll have to document him. He’ll get interrogated and be taken away with all the other questionables.”

“Questionables?!” Jemma demanded.

At the same time, Fitz spluttered “What the hell is going on?!”

She turned to him, holding up a hand to silence her friend. “There was a sleeper organization hidden in Shield. I was sent here to get intel so that the FBI - I work there - could flush them out and finally end it once and for all. If you hadn’t guessed, they’re storming the building.”

Dozens of expression crossed through his face one after the other. Confusion, followed by fear, proceeded by confusion again, then astonishment….

“Wait, wait, wait, there was a sleeper organization in Shield?!”

“You tell me,” Skye muttered.

“And you-” he turned to face Jemma. “Were a spy? This entire time?”

There was so much disbelief splayed across his entire image that her heart squeezed painfully. “Well, yes,” she admitted, but when he started to throw his hands up in the air, she hurriedly continued, taking a risk and grabbing his arm. It seemed to work slightly, because he looked at her again. “What I mean is, I was sent here to get intel. Snoop a bit, find info about the Red Skulls and their exploit. Everything with you and me… that was real. I’m still Jemma Simmons. It’s not like I was using you under a cover or anything. I’m still your friend… or at least I hope I am.”

He gazed intently at her. “So, all those times you were sneaking around… it was for a reason?”

She nodded, wanting so badly for him to understand. “I’m so sorry, Fitz. I wouldn’t have moved labs if it had been my decision.” After a short pause, she opened her mouth again, desperate to say something more when Skye interrupted. “I don’t see why we’re still standing here. The building is being stormed, Jemma! We have a duty! We shouldn’t be down here with this guy, we should be escorting him to the trucks to bring him into custody.”

Jemma whipped around to face the other woman. “Why on earth would he be taken into custody?”

“You know the procedure, and honestly I have no reason to trust him. It’s not that hard to put on an innocent ‘I’m a nerd’ facade. And you said it yourself - he’s been sabotaging your missions since you got here, preventing your work! How are we supposed to know that he didn’t know what was going on and wasn’t doing it on purpose? I’m being careful.”

“Well, don’t be!” she protested. “He had no clue what was going on, it was an accident, a coincidence! He…” she stepped closer and lowered her voice just enough so that Fitz couldn’t hear. “He’s a good guy. I completely trust him.”

“You…” Skye looked at her in astonishment, crossing her arms again and leaning her head towards her. “You’re vouching for him?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you hated him. I thought you said you thought he was the most annoying man on earth.”

She looked back to her best friend, who was still visibly confused as to what was going on, and a tad defensive from the comment about him being annoying. Altogether he looked quite adorable. The cut he had acquired on his chin only served to make him look even more attractive in her eyes. Oh, lord, she was going insane. Oh well.

“I don’t think that,” she amended sincerely.

Skye kept her steely gaze locked on Jemma for another few moments, before sighing at her strong resolution and rolling her eyes up at the ceiling. “Fine. But I’m still getting you too out of here. Right now isn’t exactly the time for a heartfelt conversation.”

“Thank you!” the biochemist exclaimed lovingly, throwing her arms around her friend and squeezing her as tight as she could while still avoiding any contact with her gun. With all the things she had to worry about, now at least she didn’t have to stress over whether or not Fitz would be viewed as a criminal for a crime she was certain he had nothing to do with.

The hacker embraced her back, but pushed her away at the shoulders so she could look at her. “One way or another - Red Skull or not - your friend over there is coming in for questioning so we can at least find out what he knows. Your vouching for him will be on record, though, and as soon as he’s cleared, we’ll let him go. Shouldn’t take too long. We’re doing it level by level, with extra focus on those we think are valuable.”

“Deal,” Jemma confirmed.

“Great!” she exclaimed sarcastically. “Now that we’re all one big happy family, let’s go.”

Skye darted out of the room, checking the hallway all around her before motioning for Jemma to follow, prompting her to grab Fitz’s arm with a silent look that said they would have a lengthy conversation about it later and run after the first agent. Within a few minutes they were scrambling through the building, trying to find an exit. Luckily for them, the FBI had taken control, so once people saw a badge, they let them through, but that didn’t stop the fact that (once again) Jemma was almost shot about three times, slammed into five people who were trying to escape, and nearly fell down a flight of stairs in her haste. By the end of the chaos, though, she was outside the building, relatively unharmed, with the people she cared about. She felt like kissing the ground.

To her left, she saw a stream of handcuffed men and women being led into armored vehicles one by one, and even further down the road, a group of Shield agents being lectured on what had happened. Some of them were being brought to trucks too. At the sight, Jemma heard a faint gasp escape from Fitz’s throat, he obviously was recognizing some of the familiar -but apparently not so friendly- faces being revealed as the enemy for the first time. She followed his line of sight to see one Dr Kenneth Turgeon practically growling at Hunter, who was manning the nearest truck.

“It’s a lot to take in, I know,” she comforted, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah…” was all he managed to say.

Skye clapped her hands together beside them. “Well,” she announced. “I have to go rejoin the action. Why don’t you two head back to Jemma’s apartment if you want, to get away from here, at least, and I’ll come pick the two of you up when it’s time for Dr Fitz’s questioning and so Simmons can get her mission report?”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

* * *

 

Fitz sat on Jemma’s couch, staring blankly into the cup of tea that she’d placed in his hands. He’d been sitting like that for almost five minutes now, and she’d grown worried. After putting the teapot on the table in front of them, she hesitantly sat down on the cushion beside him, the movement making the couch bounce just enough for him to snap out of his trance.

“Can you explain something for me, Jemma?” he asked meekly, still not looking up from his drink.

“Anything,” she promised.

“Well, when you… I thought… Actually, could you just start from the beginning? I really just need to know what’s going on.”

Jemma laughed without humour, taking a swig of her tea and staring down at the swirling surface. “Well, I used to work at a pharmacy in Cambridge. I met my friend Trip there. He was a police officer. I met up with him again when I moved to America to work in Boston. I was offered a consultant position on his undercover mission with the Red Skulls. I was supposed to be his backup. He… he didn’t make it out. Shot in the head.”

Fitz put his hand over hers and rubbed soothing circles onto her skin. “I’m sorry.”

She gave him a small smile, before looking back down again. “After that, the FBI hired me. Eventually, they gave me the same position. I was terrified, but felt like I owed it to Trip, you know? So I accepted. They gave me the lowdown, told me I’d be working with a Shield agent, and that I’d be responsible for getting any intel I could about Hydra.  Next thing I know, they’ve moved me here and I’m bumping into you on my first day.”

He blushed at that. “Did I really get in your way that much?” he asked.

“Oh, loads. Practically every assignment. When I snooped around at night, you just so happened to pull an all nighter. When I tried to get to a wall panel in a vacant room, you coincidentally ate your lunch there. Even when I tried to sneak out, you asked me out.” Her cheeks felt warm at that last bit. “But…”

“But, what?”

She tilted her head up to look into his eyes. “I’m glad you did it.”

“Really?” he wondered in astonishment. “It sounded like I was just an utter nuisance.”

“You were never a nuisance… Well, you were at first, but you became endearing. And I’m glad you got in my way, if you hadn’t, I would have finished that Op so much sooner, and we never would have been friends.”

“Yeah, about that…” he began, gazing at her with an expression of such vulnerability and adoration that her heart pounded inside her chest. “When I asked you out, I didn’t mean it as friends.”

“You didn’t?” she questioned. She’d had a hunch that said as much, but she still wanted it to be clarified out loud.

“No. You’re more than that, Jemma. Honestly, I just didn’t have the courage to tell you, and then you moved labs… I thought you were rejecting me and left because you didn’t feel the same.”

Jemma couldn’t help but stare open-mouthed at him. The poor boy. She’d never meant to make him feel unhappy, actually, she wanted to do quite the opposite. After a moment’s hesitation, she spoke earnestly, squeezing his hand. “Fitz, let me tell you, that is honestly not the case.”

He pulled his head back warily, studying her face searchingly. “Really?”

She nodded. “I… I actually quite like you. More than a friend. The only reason I said no to the movies was because I had to work on my mission and I didn’t have another option. Moving labs was an order, not a rejection for you on my part.”

Fitz’s face suddenly went blank, like he was having trouble processing her words. His lips were curved up slightly, though, which she took to be a good sign. “You… like me? You like like me?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes, Fitz,” she confirmed with a smile. “I like like you - despite how childish that term is.”

They gazed at each other peacefully and contently for an undetermined amount of time, still holding hands. Looking at him now, after having said everything that was said, she allowed herself to let a thought that she had been blocking for the last month cross her mind. Fitz was cute. Hot, even. Also, there was a very good chance that she was in love with him - not that she was in any way ready to say that out loud. Not yet.

“Do you want to go out?” he blurted out quickly, looking sort of panicked.

She stared at him in shock, so he continued rambling. “Well, I mean, we’ve concluded that we both like each other, um, romantically, right? And you wanted to go out with me that first time, hmm? But you didn’t get the chance? Well, I was thinking that we definitely have a chance now, and we don’t know how long you’ll be in Boston and I just… Dinner? You and me?”

Jemma’s mouth split into a beaming grin at his adorable awkwardness. “Yes, Fitz. Dinner sounds like a wonderful idea. I’d say tomorrow, but you’ll be in for questioning at that time, it seems. How about Friday?”

“7:30? I’ll pick you up?”

She leaned forward to kiss his cheek, certain that if both their cheeks hadn’t been red before, they definitely were now. “Sounds perfect.”

They both fiddled with their entwined fingers, each wanting to say more, but also perfectly content with the happy silence they had adopted. At one point or another, without either of them noticing, they had scooched closer together on the couch, both of their teas abandoned and probably cold on the table on the behalf of their owners’ hands being busy. Despite the already-small space between the two of them, Jemma sidled closer to Fitz, resting her head on his shoulder. She would be perfectly pleased to stay like that for the rest of the night, in all honesty… So, of course the doorbell rang.

Jemma didn’t even have time to stand up before Skye came barging through the door without permission, she was only given a short time to move away from Fitz - though it was fairly obvious, especially to Skye, what she was doing.

Like the biochemist predicted, her friend took one glance at the two scientists’ position and asked teasingly, “Did I interrupt anything?”

“Um, no,” she lied in response.

Skye gave her a face that said ‘sure’, but continued anyways, walking into the main room and sitting on the coffee table in front of them. “So, Dr Fitz-”

“- Just Fitz, please,” he interjected.

“Okay, Fitz, you’ll be brought in for a bit of quick questioning tomorrow, around noon. I’ll leave Jemma here in charge of escorting you. I’m sure she doesn’t mind.”

She didn’t.

Skye studied the two of them again, the agent adopting her business face as Jemma called it. “My fellow agents and I have been talking… and it’s been made clear that Shield won’t be up and running for at least a few months. We’ve still got to make sure that the other branches don’t hold the same problems as this one and we have a lot of work to do in regards to making sure that all the influence of the Red Skulls has been understood and flushed out…”

Fitz looked worried, turning to Jemma with his brow furrowed. “Meaning?”

“You’ll be out of a job for a little while. Which brings me to another point. Jemma is a trusted member of the FBI and her vouching for you.... it means a lot. Obviously, you’ll need to be cleared before any action is taken whatsoever, but, we’ve decided your skills are quite useful and you would be a valuable asset to our organization.”

“Spit it out, Skye,” she demanded. Jemma needed to know if she was getting at what she thought she was getting at.

The hacker looked at both of them once more, and sighed. “We’d like to offer you a position amongst our ranks. Jemma and I’s boss, Coulson, is forming a mobile command unit, which he wants you to be a part of.”

“Really?” They both demanded at the same time.

Skye nodded. “I mean, you’ll have to go through initiation - meaning standard background checks and lying machine protocol. That’s Bobbi’s thing. If you don’t clear it’s up to Coulson to decide whether or not we take a leap of faith. But if Jemma trusts you, I trust you.”

Fitzsimmons beamed at each other, not-so-subtly reaching for the other’s hand again as the other woman kept talking.

“The food’s great at HQ,” Skye added. “And I saw the plane we’d be working on, and it’s sweet. Plus, for a secret agency, we get a surprising amount of vacation days, which is a bonus.”

“One thing I need to clarify,” Fitz began. “I’d have to move?”

“Yep. But you know… There’s an empty apartment down the hall from mine. We could set you up there if you want.”

 

The engineer smiled so brightly that he lit up the room - figuratively, of course. “Deal,” he concluded.

Jemma made a squeal of joy, because for the first time in the last five years, everything was going exactly right for her. She pulled her friends into a tight hug, and squeezed them mercilessly, swaying slightly on the spot. She could tell that Skye wasn’t exactly happy at being in the same group hug as a stranger, but Simmons didn’t really care. She had a pretty good feeling that they would get along soon, especially since they would be neighbours.

 **  
** Maybe getting attached wasn’t so bad after all…. She might even get her happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Looks like it's a happy ending after all (but we would have never given you guys an angsty ending, we're not evil monsters). But don't be sad, it's not all over yet. We still have one more chapter to go, though it's more of an epilogue. In any case, stay tuned for that tomorrow!
> 
> We hope you enjoyed! If you feel inclined, please leave a comment below to tell us what you thought. They really make our day!
> 
> Have a groovy day!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the last chapter! Thank you so much to you all for reading!
> 
> To my partner multifandomcircusfreak, thank you for being a great partner and helping this fic become a reality!
> 
> To our giftees fitzsvmmons and the-feels-are-overflowing, we hope you enjoyed, and that it at least sort of met your prompt!
> 
> Enjoy the final chapter :)

Jemma walked past the headstones slowly, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and Fitz’s hand grasped firmly in the other. Even after eight years, visiting Trip’s grave still left a hollow feeling in her heart. The quaint white headstones in the police cemetery were neatly arranged and identical, but Jemma had been here so many times the layout of the graveyard was as familiar as her own home. She didn’t even have to look for her friend’s grave anymore, it had become muscle memory.

“Here we are,” said Jemma as they reached a headstone bearing the inscription ANTOINE TRIPLETT. She let go of Fitz’s hand to lay down the carnations he had helped her pick out next to the headstone.

The feeling today was different to the times she had been here before. After so long, she had finally brought Trip’s killers to justice. Now they were locked away in jail, where they deserved to be, some for the rest of their lives. Jemma knew that, logically, Trip had no idea that the Red Skulls had been apprehended, but she still felt that he would rest easier from now on. How she wished she could talk to him. She knew that completing his mission wouldn’t bring him back to life either, but at least the cause of his death was now resolved.

Jemma lay her head on Fitz’s shoulder, as mixed tears of relief, joy and grief fell from her eyes. She felt his arm encircle her waist and immediately felt comforted. Fitz turned his head down toward hers, lips ghosting her hair.

She didn’t know how long they stood there, Jemma sobbing silent tears into Fitz’s shirt as he rubbed small circles onto her back. Having Fitz beside her made her feel better about all the hardships she had felt in her life. Jemma had had boyfriends before, of course, but she had never let herself truly feel love. She didn’t know exactly what it was between her and Fitz, but she knew she cherished it and wasn’t going to let it go.

As Jemma lifted her head, Fitz smiled at her reassuringly. His blue eyes were soft and his chin wasn’t quite as smooth as it usually was from forgetting to shave throughout the FBI project he had thrown himself into. Jemma found it amazingly endearing - and quite handsome, now that she finally let herself admit it.

“Want to go?” she breathed.

“Ready when you are,” he replied, trailing his fingers along her arm.

She took his hand again, and he squeezed it as they began to walk away from the grave. Jemma took one last look at the headstone.

They were approaching the bus stop they were heading for when Jemma sensed a tension in Fitz’s grip. She knew him well enough by now to know that he wanted to tell her something. “What is it, Fitz?” she asked.

“Uh- I, um-“

Jemma shifted around so she was facing him, but retained her hold of his hand. Squeezing it reassuringly, she asked him again, “Everything alright?”

“Yes! Yeah, I just- well, I had a lot of fun on our date last night,” he began.

“Me too,” Jemma said, smiling gently.

Fitz’s face broke into a wide smile at that, still nervous but undoubtedly overjoyed. Jemma wanted to put that look on his face more often. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out again, maybe?” he asked, like it was even something Jemma had to consider.

“Oh, Fitz,” said Jemma as she let go of his hand to cup his face. She leaned up towards him and gently touched his lips with hers. When he responded to the kiss, she moved her mouth against his slowly, enjoying the feeling of his lips caressing hers and his arms wrapped around her. They kissed like they had all the time in the world (which they did, Jemma thought happily) and when Jemma pulled away to take a breath, she was stopped from going back in by Fitz’s mesmerised gaze. A pair of eyes as beautiful as that staring at Jemma like she was the loveliest thing in the world did things to her heart.

“So… that’s a yes, I presume?” Fitz breathed, looking a bit dazed.

Jemma pecked him on the lips again quickly before turning out of his embrace and continuing on toward the bus stop, beckoning him to follow. “You’re a genius,” she said. “You figure it out.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww. Yay for happy endings! We hope you enjoyed the ride.
> 
> If you feel inclined, please leave a comment below to tell us what you thought. They really make our day!
> 
> Also, I have a question for you lovely readers. Could you tell the fic was obviously written by two people, or were the differences subtle? To help you out, here's a breakdown of who wrote each chapter:
> 
> style3645: Chapters 1, 2, 3, second half of 4, first half of 5, chapters 10, 11, 12, 13, 15.  
> multifandomcircusfreak: First half of Ch 4, second half of 5, chapters 6, 7, 8, 9, 14.


End file.
